Someone to Watch Over Me
by Siggy
Summary: AU Post series 3.  Alex made it home but the past won't leave her alone.  Can she lay her ghosts to rest?  Does she even want to? NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**So the plot bunny has bitten once again and I couldn't resist. Hopefully this story will not be on quite the same epic scale as my previous stories and I'll get through it a bit quicker! This is totally AU, taking place after 3.8 but with Alex having made it home instead of going into the pub. I hope you'll read and enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Cogito Ergo Sum<strong>

It had been six long hard months since Alex Drake had woken from her coma. Six months in which she had fought to recover from a bullet which had lodged in her frontal lobe and had very nearly killed her. Her doctors had called her recovery miraculous but the rehabilitation process had been anything but. Not only had she had to deal with the mental aspects of her injury – problems with memory, speech and impulse control – she had also had to contend with physical weaknesses, a balance problem made her fall over and having to learn to walk again. Still, it could have been worse. Much worse.

_Cogito Ergo Sum._ For some strange reason the Latin phrase kept popping into her head at unexpected moments. _I think therefore I am._ But who am I exactly? Am I the same person that Arthur Layton shot? Sometimes, especially when her now erratic temper got the better of her, she thought she was another person entirely. But did it really matter?

She paused and looked up towards the weak sun shining in the sky. For a moment she closed her eyes and enjoyed the faint trace of heat upon her face. She was alive. And for that she gave thanks. And in many ways that's why she was here today – to give thanks. No other reason to be limping around an almost eerily quiet cemetery in Manchester. She briefly glanced back towards the entrance where Molly and Evan were standing. She gave them a reassuring wave and then started to walk, very slowly, towards her destination. They had wanted to come with her to the graveside but she had insisted on doing this alone – she had a few things to say that they just wouldn't understand. She paused and briefly glimpsed at the directions on the piece of paper she was holding, looking around the serried ranks of gravestones to get her bearings. In theory he should be easy to find – a lot of the gravestones were old and not exactly in the best of condition. A brand new gravestone should be easy to spot.

And then suddenly she saw it – an obviously new and recently erected black granite headstone standing out from its older brethren. With a deep breath and a flutter of apprehension she gripped her walking stick and then walked towards it. She arrived at the graveside, slightly out of breath but with a sense of achievement as she looked down at the headstone. She smiled with satisfaction – it was exactly as she had wanted. "Hello Guv." She had to close her eyes against the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and she was almost sure she could hear his voice in her head. '_You took your time then'._

She opened her eyes and laughed softly. "Sorry I'm late." She knelt awkwardly by his headstone and traced her fingers over the inscription_. 'In Loving Memory. PC Gene Hunt. Killed in the line of duty 2__nd__ June 1953 aged 20. Sadly Missed.'_ She suddenly remembered the small posy of violets that she was carrying and laid them carefully on the grave. Not that Gene would have cared about such things of course – especially given the length of time that had passed since his actual death. But to her it only felt like yesterday since she had seen him, laughed and cried with him….kissed him.

"Thank you," she said finally, "thank you for…for whatever it was that you did. For making sure I got home."

She had thought that the memories would fade in time – her psychologist certainly thought so. But they hadn't and the recollection of her final days with Gene and the CID team were as fresh and vibrant as ever. Particularly the memory of that eventful final day.

She still remembered standing outside The Railway Arms following Ray, Shaz and Chris' departure. There had been an awful, heart stopping moment when she thought that she had died and she too would have to go into the pub. Jim Keats had been there, taunting Gene and daring him to 'do the right thing'. But Gene had simply smiled and then dispatched Keats with one almighty thump to his jaw which had left him unconscious and sprawled on the hard ground.

"_You have to go now Alex."_

"_No. Listen…__ listen to me. I can stay here... with you. You can't do this... you can't do this on your own. You need me, Gene. I can't... I can't go in there!_

"_Can't have you putting me off my stride, can I? I mean, I'll end up wondering if I'm not completely right all the time. Can't have that. Weren't bad though, were we__?"_

_Alex shook her head numbly. "We were good. Very good."_

_He nodded. "Good girl." _

_And then unexpectedly he had taken her into his arms and held her close. Even now Alex could remember his masculine smell and the rough scratch of his coat as she had buried her face against his chest._

"_Besides," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You've got to go home now. Molly's waiting for her mam."_

"_What?" She looked up at Gene with confusion – and at almost the same time she heard a little girl's voice. 'Mummy! Wake up Mummy'. She turned around to see a railway viaduct with an eerie bright light almost beckoning her forward._

"_Gene?"_

"_Time to go home Bolly. Time to go where you're needed."_

_She looked again at the light and then back towards Gene. "But…I can't…"_

"_Yes you can." He took her face in his hands and finally kissed her, a kiss full of repressed longing, tender but passionate –a goodbye kiss. Then he gently pushed her towards the light. "See you around Bollykecks."_

_She started to walk towards the light. "Goodbye Guv…Gene."_

"_Go."_

The last thing she remembered was his kiss and his voice urging her forward_ "Go on Alex, you'll be fine."_ The next thing she knew, she was in a hospital bed with Evan, Molly and a host of doctors surrounding her bed. She had been connected to so much medical paraphernalia that she had been unable to do anything but blink her eyes in response – but she was alive and back with her daughter and in the end that was all that mattered.

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"Alex?"

The sound of Evan's voice roused Alex from her remembrance of times past. He held out his hand and helped her to stand.

"You shouldn't be sitting on the hard ground," he chided, as he steadied her and handed her the walking cane.

"Don't nag Evan please. Where's Molly?"

"She's in the car waiting. Listening to something infernal on that iPhone of hers no doubt." He glanced over at Alex. "So, are you happy now?"

"Happy?"

"Well you've been going on about PC Gene Hunt's last resting place ever since you woke up? I just wondered if this was the end of it."

"He deserved to have a proper burial," Alex snapped, "and a headstone to mark his grave. Everyone deserves that surely?"

"Of course," Evan soothed. "But I just don't understand why it had to be you that arranged it. He died such a long time ago – before you were even born."

"And he lay in an unmarked grave for over fifty years – he deserved much more than I could ever do for him."

Evan sighed. Ever since she had woken from her coma, Alex had developed an unhealthy obsession with PC Gene Hunt – whose body had been discovered on the same day that she had woken up. Her psychologist thought that she should be allowed to follow this through as it wasn't doing anyone any harm but Evan was beginning to wonder. "Didn't he have any surviving family?"

Alex shook her head. "Not really." He had no wife, no children and the only relations left seemed to be distant cousins of his mother. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried to find someone, anyone, who was related to or could remember Gene Hunt, but any of his friends and contemporaries were dead or couldn't remember him. Even the official police records just had him down as 'missing'. Once Gene's remains had finally been identified, Alex had pushed for him to have a proper burial – to have the recognition that he should have had all those years ago. She didn't know if it would make any difference in _his_ world – she only knew that it made her feel better.

"Well," Evan said. "You did a good thing. That young man is at rest now – and speaking of rest….."

"I know, I know….I'm not a child Evan."

"I know you're not, but you do still tire easily and I don't want you to have a relapse. Please come back to the hotel now and rest."

Alex sighed but gave in gracefully. It had been a long day and an emotional afternoon. She could afford to take a break and spend some time with Molly. "Back to the hotel it is then."

" Good." Evan patted her hand as they walked back towards the waiting car. "And have we done with Gene Hunt now or is there anywhere else that we need to go?"

"Just one more place and then I'm done – but we can go there tomorrow."

"Oh? Where?"

"Farringfield Green."

**To be continued…**


	2. Looking for a Friend

**_Many thanks for the wonderful comments and reviews for the first chapter - very much appreciated. Many thanks also to grainweevil for her essential episode transcriptions which helped when writing this chapter._**

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><p><strong>Looking for a Friend<strong>

Alex cut the engine of the hired silver Ford Focus and sat silently for a few moments while she gathered her thoughts. The last time she had been to Farringfield Green it had turned out to be a nightmare of epic proportions. She deliberately turned her thoughts towards the events that head led to the revelation of who Gene Hunt actually was – a young PC killed in the line of duty, brave but reckless…in fact very much like the man he grew up to be.

She couldn't really explain to Evan why she had to come here – and why she had to come here alone at that. All she knew was that she had to do this for herself – only then could she lay this particular ghost to rest. So she had hired a car, smiling as she imagined Gene's reaction to the nondescript but serviceable vehicle she was allocated. _'Bloody girls car'_. She could hear his disdain as clear as the day. With a weary smile she got out of the car and stretched her aching legs. In truth she shouldn't really be driving yet but she relished in this one small rebellion in the certain knowledge that Gene would have at least approved of her motives if not the actual vehicle.

The sun was stronger today and the clouds had obligingly disappeared, leaving a typical English late-summer's day – not exactly t-shirt and shorts weather, but warm enough to dispense with the jacket she had been wearing. She was glad. Glad it wasn't dark and gloomy and oppressive – that was the image of Farringfield that had stuck in her mind and she was pleasantly surprised at how beautiful it was in reality. From her position she could now see that the farmhouse wasn't isolated at all and there was a small cluster of buildings – a small village perhaps – just a ten minute walk away.

She was also aware that she was putting off the inevitable and so she turned towards the crest of the hill to where a scarecrow still stood. She started to walk slowly towards her destination until a voice sounded in her head. _'Don't forget your stick'. _She was so used to his voice now that she simply shook her head and turned back, opened the car door and retrieved her walking stick. "Nag, nag, nag," she muttered. _'I heard that!' _

She grinned and walked on.

This was the moment she had been dreading but now that it had arrived she suddenly didn't feel scared at all. Yes, the scarecrow was still there but at least he didn't seem quite so sinister now – he had been re-dressed in gaily coloured ribbons and a jaunty red beret and seemed to be doing a fine job of…well, whatever is was that scarecrows did. She looked at the ground beneath the scarecrow and immediately recognised the signs she was looking for. Of course Gene wasn't here any more and the makeshift grave he had lain in for so long was now refilled with earth and covered with newly grown grass. But her copper's instincts were still good and she knew this was the place.

"Oh Gene." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of how he had lain he undiscovered for over fifty years. How his mother must have grieved for him, never knowing whether he was alive or dead. _'Don't cry Bols, that's an order.'_ She wasn't sure if she was just remembering his voice or actually hearing him – but it didn't really matter. His voice was comforting in its rough familiarity. "Yes Guv."

She brushed the tears away and as she did, she remembered a line of poetry that she had once heard somewhere. _'My feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping…'_ As happened so often nowadays she couldn't remember the rest of it. And anyway, she knew he wasn't sleeping here, not sleeping anywhere really, but she still found some comfort in knowing that he had been found and acknowledged and remembered. "I'm sorry," she said finally, "sorry I couldn't stay…I…I wanted to sometimes. But there was Molly you see and…." Her voice tailed off but she stayed there for a while, lost in thoughts in what might have been and feeling a mixture of sadness and guilt. It probably wasn't what her psychologist would recommend as a healing process.

Reluctantly she tore herself away, and even though she knew he wasn't there anymore, she felt such a wrench…almost as if she was abandoning him again. With grim determination she limped back towards the car, only looking up when she heard an insistent voice.

"This is private land miss, you shouldn't be here." A middle-aged man dressed in working clothes ran towards her, only stopping to catch his breath as he reached her side.

"What?"

"Private land." He pointed towards a sign that she hadn't seen when she drove in.

She was just about to reach for her warrant card when she realised that she didn't have one any more. Officially she was on long-term sick leave but she already knew that she wouldn't be going back to the Met.

"I'm sorry." She smiled apologetically and was rewarded with a softening of the man's features. Still got it, she thought. She looked around and took in the old farmhouse and the derelict outbuildings all looking much the same as they had done. However there was something different – there was scaffolding surrounding the main farmhouse and delivery vans parked in the yard and a general air of something underway.

"That's alright Miss," the man said, "taking a walk were you? Or did you come to see the site? Bit early mind, won't be ready for a while…"

"What won't be ready?"

"The new development. About time they did something to this place if you ask me."

"Not a housing estate?" Alex's heart sank. For some reason she couldn't bear to think of this place covered in anonymous box-like houses.

"No, nothing like that. Exclusive they reckon. Big farmhouse there – that'll be the main house when it's finished and just a couple of others around about."

"So they're not knocking it down?"

"Renovating. Inside has been gutted already." He cocked his head to one side as if contemplating something. "You want to see?"

Alex's heart skipped a beat but she couldn't really say no – this was the final part of her pilgrimage to Gene's memory. She couldn't chicken out now. She nodded. "I'd love to."

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Alex paused on the threshold of the farmhouse kitchen. Mr McVitie (for that was her companion's name) led the way.

"They don't build 'em like this any more. Solid. Built to last this one."

She nodded and stepped tentatively through the doorway. It was empty of course, no patriotic coronation bunting, no signs that someone had once been murdered here. And yet, if she closed her eyes, she could hear it all.

'_Skinny. Yeah, he was, um... He was a skinny lad, needed fattening up…. Didn't deserve a shallow grave, did he? Did he, Alex?_..._No. No, you didn't.' _

She swayed on her feet.

"Ere, you alright Miss? Here, come and sit yerself down. You look right mithered." He guided her towards a group of wooden chairs gathered around a makeshift table which the workmen were obviously using on their tea breaks.

Alex didn't know what mithered meant, but it didn't sound good. "I'll be fine. I just need a minute to catch my breath. I haven't been well lately."

"Touch of the flu?"

"Bullet in the head." She glanced at Mr McVitie's shocked face. "Sorry. I tend to say things without thinking these days."

"Well there's worse things than that I reckon. Fancy a brew?" He gestured towards a flask on the table.

She nodded. "That would be lovely." There was something in his manner that she found reassuring and slightly familiar. It was the accent of course and his no nonsense manner. Not Gene though. Now that she had had a good look at him she could see that he was a good decade older than Gene – the Gene she had left behind anyway.

He placed a mug of hot and steaming tea in front of her. "Get that down yer. Pick you up before you know it."

She took a sip of the highly sweetened tea and let it warm her insides. When she felt a bit more human she turned to Mr McVitie. "So, you're in charge here?"

He nodded. Foreman of the works – when they start again. First phase is over as you see." He gestured around the barren room which was bare apart from the table and chair they were sitting at. "Everything stripped out top to bottom and now the fun begins. Would you like to see the plans?"

"That would be wonderful."

He reached for a sheaf of papers and slid them across the table. "There'll be glossy brochures aplenty before long but this will do for now."

Alex's eyes widened at the proposed specifications for the renovation. There were artist's impressions of each room and detailed descriptions of what the architects wanted to achieve. Just the plans for the room where they were sitting now were breathtaking – a huge Aga, a central island, room for dining and relaxing – a real family room. A glimmer of a plan started to form in her mind.

"…about time the old place had some life put back…especially after what happened."

"Sorry?" Alex realised her attention had wandered.

"After what happened here? Did you not read the papers? Some young copper killed here they reckon. Murdered on Coronation Day….mind you, only came to light about six months ago. Poor kid."

Alex smiled weakly. "Don't suppose they'll be using that as a selling point will they?"

Mr McVitie chuckled. "You're right there."

She took another sip of tea and looked around the room. "So when will it be finished?"

"Before Christmas is the plan. Sales office isn't really open yet but I reckon it'll be snapped up soon as its ready."

"I want it." The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.

"Pardon?"

Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Mr McVitie, I want to buy this house."

…**to be continued**

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><p><strong>AN. And for those wondering if Gene is ever going to appear in this story the answer is Yes. Sort of. Soon.**


	3. Angel Voices

**A slightly Christmassy theme going on in this chapter, although still a fair bit of Alex angst present...but change is afoot...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Angel Voices<strong>

The last place Alex wanted to be on Christmas Eve was sitting in a cramped if cosy waiting room waiting to see her new therapist. As the faint strains of festive music played in the background , she sat there idly flicking through a magazine while trying to remember the things that she still had to do, last minute shopping and perhaps more treats for Molly, present wrapping and a little more festive sprucing up at the house she now called home. Still, better to get this first session over with and then she would have nothing to do but enjoy Christmas with Molly in their new home. Evan was invited too of course, and he would be arriving later this evening. Alex personally thought that he was only coming to prove a point – probably hoping that she was regretting the move to Farringfield already.

Alex's decision to sell up and move north had been the subject of some quite heated debate. Molly surprisingly had been all for it – especially once she had seen the plans and brochures….and the fact that she would have a huge bedroom and study of her own. But Evan had been worried and sceptical, even to the point of suggesting that she was mentally unsuited to be making such a huge decision at this point. That had almost led to a parting of the ways and Molly had been the one to broker a peace between them, convincing Alex that Evan was only worried about her. Molly was right of course, but Evan's interfering ways still rankled and she had less patience that she used to – for all sorts of reasons.

"Miss Drake? You can go in now."

Alex smiled and then took a deep breath. She hoped she wouldn't have to rehash the whole 'shot in the head thing' again. In fact she hoped that she wouldn't have to make too many more visits to a therapist. She paused outside the therapist's office and grinned at the name plate. _Dr __Gabriel __Turner __Ph.D__ – _bet he got a lot of stick at this time of the year. She knocked and then walked into the office and was immediately struck by how cosy and homely it felt; comfortable sofas were strewn with cushions and throws and there was a distinct aroma of freshly brewed coffee in the air.

"Alex Drake?" A tall dark haired man got up from the nearest sofa and walked towards her. "I'm Gabe – please to meet you." He took her hand and shook it before guiding her towards the sofa. "Coffee? Mince pie?"

"That would be lovely."

"To the coffee or the mince pie?"

"Just the coffee. If I see one more mince pie I may actually scream."

Gabe grinned at her. "I know exactly what you mean."

Alex made herself comfortable and took the opportunity to look around the office – and to give Gabe Turner the once over. About her own age, she assessed, long limbed, dressed casually but not _too_ casually. Definitely not what she was expecting.

"How do you take it?"

"Sorry?"

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh. Black no sugar."

She watched as he poured two mugs and then walked towards her and sat down on the sofa opposite.

"This is not quite was I was expecting," she said, her glance indicating the room. "Nothing like the last place."

"I like to be a little more informal here – and I think it helps people relax and open up more."

"And is that what you want me to do? Open up?"

"Well I think we're probably getting a little ahead of ourselves. I thought we'd keep today's session pretty light - its Christmas Eve after all, and I'm sure you've got much better things to do."

He reached across to the coffee table and a lifted a fairly hefty buff coloured folder onto his knee. Alex watched as he opened the file and started to flick through some of the pages. She wondered if he knew what he was letting himself in for.

"So," he said finally, "how are you feeling. Physically I mean."

"Better. Improving all the time. I hardly need my walking stick now."

"That's good. Any fits or seizures?"

Alex shook her head. "No. I still have to go for regular check ups and I do get a little tired now and then."

"Hardly surprising," Gabe said with a smile, "especially since you've upped sticks and moved house. Big thing to take on."

Alex bristled but prepared to explain herself. "My godfather and my last therapist thought I was mad. But I don't really care. I can't really explain why I did it – it just felt right."

"Some things can't be explained rationally – and as long as you can live with the consequences then I say good for you – a new adventure might be just what you need. And what about your mental fitness?"

"You tell me – I'm sure its all there in the file."

"It is, but I often find it helpful if people tell me in their own words – how are you feeling mentally?"

"Good. Not great but getting there. I still have a few problems I suppose."

"Like?"

"Impulse control, bad temper, forgetting words, memory problems – nothing I can't live with."

"That's not bad – considering you were shot in the head ten months ago – and there's still room for improvement I'm sure."

Alex nodded and started to relax slightly.

Gabe took a slurp of coffee from his mug and then continued. "As I said Alex, I don't want to get into a heavy session today – this is more of a 'meet and greet' and get to know each other session. Do you know why your previous therapist referred you to me?"

Alex shrugged. "Closest therapist to where I live now I suppose."

"You live in…." he consulted her folder, " Farringfield Green, near Hyde?"

"Converted farmhouse – we only moved in two weeks ago."

"Well although this practice is reasonably close, that's not the reason you were referred to me."

"Oh?"

"Although I cover a wide range of areas, my speciality is in bereavement and grief counselling."

Alex sat and stared uncomprehendingly. "Pardon?"

"Dealing with people who have suffered loss or bereavement of some kind. Your previous therapist thought you were showing the classic signs of bereavement." He consulted the file again. "Insomnia, loss of appetite, depression, anxiety, anger…"

"Somebody shot me! I think I've got a lot to be angry about! And those symptoms cover just about any psychological disturbance."

"So you're not grieving? You haven't lost something or someone recently?"

Alex closed her eyes and tried to control her anger. How dare they? How dare they try to put a label on what she was feeling – they couldn't possibly understand what she was going through. After a few deep breaths she opened her mouth to speak but instead of trite platitudes to fend off Gabe's concerns, she found herself saying something entirely different.

"There is…was…someone. And I miss him. All the time." She glanced uncertainly at Gabe. "You'll probably think I'm mad but sometimes I think I can hear his voice – reminding me to do things or telling me to close the door or get my stick or not to be such a girl."

"Go on", Gabe said quietly.

"And then sometimes I feel angry. So angry. About everything that's happened but mostly about him. Why did he have to die like that? He was so young." She paused and closed her eyes for a second, smiled and shook her head and then opened her eyes again. "And the thing is I can't tell anyone that I just miss him so much…I thought it would get better but…"

"But it hasn't?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Do you want to talk about him? This man?" Gabe said gently.

Alex opened her mouth as if to speak but then stopped in her tracks. She shook her head. "No. Not really. Not today at least."

"That's fair enough. And if it's any consolation I don't think you're going mad. I think you _are_ grieving – but not only for someone you've lost. You're also grieving for yourself and the person you were before you were shot. A double whammy."

Alex attempted a weak smile. "Sounds like I'm a bit of a basket case."

"You'll be fine. It may take a little while but if you trust me, I'll help you get through this. Now, are you going to be okay? Should I call you a taxi?"

"I've got the car parked not far from here."

"Well if you're sure. I'll ask my secretary to send you an appointment for the New Year – but in the meantime I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. You've got family staying?"

Alex nodded. "I have my daughter – we've got lots of plans for the holidays."

"Good. Then I'll see you in the New Year."

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Much later that evening, and by now totally exhausted, Alex curled up in one of the cosy armchairs in the farmhouse kitchen/diner and sipped on a glass of mulled wine. Despite the rush and the bother and the underlying tensions, Christmas Eve had turned out to be quite wonderful after all. Molly had been prised away from her computer and Smartphone long enough to enjoy a very civilised dinner with Evan and herself, and with the help of a little alcohol, any lingering resentment that Alex might have felt soon melted away amongst the Christmas bonhomie. Evan had been taken on a tour of the house by a very proud Molly, and he had pronounced himself delighted and very pleased at the way things had turned out. While still reserving the right to be worried about Alex of course.

Alex sat quite contentedly in the darkened kitchen with only the twinkling Christmas tree lights and the music on the radio for company. This room had become one of her favourite retreats – even given its past associations. Not that it looked anything like it must have looked when Gene was…Alex immediately shook the thought away. She didn't want to think about that tonight. Anyway, the point was that she felt comfortable here amongst the Aga and comfortable armchairs. This was her place of retreat. It felt like home already – and she really didn't have an explanation for that. But then she didn't care very much.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and heard the Grandfather clock in the hall strike the quarter hour. Almost midnight. She yawned and took another sip of wine. Just finish this and then she really would go to bed. She closed her eyes and listened to the music playing. The radio station was playing a mixture of Christmas songs and music from the 1980's. She'd only just got to the point where she could hear those familiar songs without a pang of instant pain, but now she found that she could listen to most tunes of that era without automatically wanting throw the radio out of the window. Except _Club __Tropicana_. Well, you had to draw the line somewhere.

So when George Michael had finished bemoaning his lot in _Last __Christmas_, she really wasn't too concerned about what the next song might be. Except that she really _wasn't_ prepared for the distinctive slow guitar riff that introduced _True_.

"It's just a song," she whispered, as she closed her eyes against the painful memories. But even closing her eyes didn't stop her remembering the way she had felt as Gene had held her against him. Or the touch of his breath as their lips had almost met. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

'_I've bought a ticket to the world, but now I've come back again, why do I find it hard to write the next line, oh I want the truth to be said…I know this much is true.'_

The song eventually faded away, leaving Alex feeling more alone than she had ever felt before. Only now did she understand why Sam Tyler had done what he did, why he had taken his own life….but that simply wasn't an option for her. Instead she stood somewhat wearily and walked over to the radio and turned it off. It was only then that she had the distinct feeling that she wasn't alone any more. It felt exactly how it had felt before – when she was stuck in the 80's and she knew Molly was there but every time she turned around she was gone. She knew that if she turned around now that whoever or whatever was there would disappear too – and yet she was strangely reluctant to end the illusion.

She couldn't even bring herself to speak so she simply took a deep breath and slowly turned around. He stood there in the shadows, tall and instantly familiar.

"Hello Bols."

…**..to be continued.**

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><p><strong>AN I've moved Farringfield to where even the authors admit it was originally intended to be - closer to Hyde.**


	4. Fix You

**Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up but Christmas and real life got in the way. Hopefully no more delays now as the muse is up and running.**

**Recap:  
>Alex didn't die and didn't go into the Railway Arms. Instead Gene sent her home where she has had a long fight to recover from her injuries. She ensured Gene was laid to rest properly and even visited Farringfield Green - where she discovered the farmhouse was being renovated and was up for sale. On instinct she decided to buy the house and moved in with Molly just before Christmas. Her new therapist diagnoses her as suffering from unresolved grief but its Christmas Eve and she doesn't have time to dwell on it. But later that night, the old memories of Gene come flooding back - and then she hears a familiar voice...<strong>

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><p><strong>Fix You<strong>

"Hello Bols."

Rooted to the spot, Alex felt a tidal wave of conflicting emotions wash over her, scattering her senses and rendering her almost voiceless. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but all that emerged was a strangled incoherent sob. She felt her knees start to buckle but was powerless to do anything about it.

"Shit!" Gene rushed forward and caught her before she hit the ground, dragging her upright and into his arms. She continued to sob uncontrollably and he tightened his grip around her. He hadn't really expected this – not any of it. He thought she might be surprised of course not but hadn't counted on this outpouring of emotion. Nor had he counted on the mixed emotions he was feeling himself. Only now could he admit how much he had missed her - and how much he still wanted her. Alex continued to shake and sob and all he could do was hold her until the worst of it had passed. When he thought she was calm enough, he gently steered her towards the nearest sofa. He tried to stand but she wouldn't let him go.

"Come on love, enough now. No one'll ever want to shag you if you keep on blubbing like that." He was relieved to see that that at least raised a watery smile. "Drink?"

Alex nodded and gestured towards one of the kitchen cupboards. By the time he returned with two tumblers of whisky she looked to be semi-composed. Handing her the glass, he took his place next to her on the sofa, watching intently as she knocked back the whisky in one gulp. He was even more disconcerted when Alex started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"This. You. Me." She waved her arms wildly. "Don't you see? I've finally gone stark, staring mad. And your being here is the proof."

"Charmed I'm sure." He lips settled into a pout. "Anyway, I don't get your logic."

"You're dead Gene. You can't possibly be here. Therefore I'm having some sort of hallucination brought about severe neurological trauma." She reached over and touched Gene's arm. He felt as solid as he had always done. "A full sensory hallucination."

"That's what you said before wasn't it? When you first landed in my manor."

Alex nodded hesitantly.

"Well missus, you were wrong then and just maybe you're wrong now." He took a gulp of whisky to steady his nerves.

"You're dead Gene. We both know that." She briefly squeezed his arm in sympathy. "You can't be here. You must be a figment…"

"I am not a bloody figment! I'm a sodding ghost!"

"Oh. Well that makes it so much better doesn't it?"

"Don't you believe in ghosts Bolly?"

"Of course n….." she came to halt as she remembered another haunting she had been subjected too. The ghostly presence of PC6620 had haunted her for months back in that other place. Could it be happening here too? "Can I have another drink please?"

She had a feeling she was going to need it.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

After a couple more drinks, Alex was feeling slightly more relaxed about the whole situation and was comfortably slumped on the sofa, leaning against Gene who was also feeling the mellow effect of Scotland's finest.

"So why here?" Gene was looking around the room with more than a hint of unease.

She looked at his eyes and realised that he was probably seeing this room as he had seen it all those years ago, when it had been the scene of his untimely demise.

"Its not ghoulish fascination if that's what you're thinking. I just….I just feel comfortable here. Maybe that is something to do with you, I don't know. But I just feel like I belong."

Gene shrugged. "Fair enough," he said, taking another swing from his glass. Still seemed pretty rum but if she was happy here.

"Anyway," Alex continued, "if I hadn't come here, I wouldn't have seen you again, and I think I'd mind that dreadfully."

"Come again?"

"Well you obviously came back to haunt this place so…."

Gene chuckled. "I came back because of you Bols."

It was Alex's turn to be confused. "I don't understand."

"Ghosts don't haunt buildings - not as a rule anyway. Ghosts haunt people – wherever they are. I'm not here because of Farringfield Farm, I'm here because of you."

"Oh. I see."

"Do you?"

A long moment passed between them until Alex had to tear her eyes away from him.

"Yes, I think I finally do. But what about Fenchurch East?"

"What about it?"

"Well, you can't be in two places at once….can you?"

Gene grinned. "Turns out I can haunt you and run the station at the same time. It's called multi-tasking Bolly. You should try it some time."

Alex snorted derisively, taking another sip from her glass. She covertly watched him, searing his face into her memory just in case he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. "So, what's it like back there now?"

"Fenchurch?" Gene shrugged. "Same old station, same old crap." He paused for a moment and then grinned. "New car though."

"Oh yes, I forgot about the Quattro."

"Bastard dyke-digging tosspots. I bloody well loved that car."

Alex grinned at Gene's renewed outrage. "What have you got now?"

"Thought about a Merc but it drove like a bloody tank. So I got a BMW 635 in the end." He glanced slyly at her. "Being a girl of course you wouldn't understand the difference."

"Cheeky sod." She gave him gentle nudge in the ribs but she didn't protest too vehemently. In her case he was right, she thought of cars as simply a way of getting from A to B. For Gene, his car was almost an extension of his persona – or at least his _public_ persona, the image he wanted everyone else to see. Big, brash, confident.

"So how are you? Really?" she said quietly.

"Don't worry about me Bols. I'll do fine. I always do. Nothing changes."

She shook her head in despair. "Still the same old stubborn, pig-headed, obstinate refusal to admit you have feelings I see? So you lose your whole team, find you you're not who thought you were and still you're 'fine'?"

"What d'yer want me say? That I'm weeping and wailing because you all bloody well left me?"

"No of course not but…."

"Well I'll you the truth then shall I? Of course I miss them – all of them. I miss the way Ray used to fart the night away when we were on surveillance. I miss Chris for being a complete and utter plonker but always, always trying to do the right thing. Shaz and her endless cups of tea and the way she was turning into a decent copper. And Viv…" his voice was perilously close to cracking, "…I miss Viv at the heart of it all." He turned towards her. "But most of all I miss you. You with your fruitcake ideas and your nag, nag nagging. Always nagging me to do the right thing. But oh the look in your eyes when I did Bolly. I could live on that look for days." He paused and took a deep breath. "Now I don't know why I'm there and what its all for."

Alex clasped his hand, fully expecting him to shrug her off. But he didn't. He held onto her hand as they sat there on the sofa, both lost in their own world of thought.

"So why…why did you send me back here? You could have kept me with you…couldn't you?"

He grimaced and then reached for the whisky bottle, pouring them both another generous measure. "Doesn't work like that Bols. You were alive, you had to come back here where you belonged. If you'd been dead…." He let the thought trail off. "Anyway, I didn't come here to prodded and poked into having feelings or admitting I was wrong."

"Heaven forbid," Alex whispered under her breath. "So why _did_ you come back?"

"Because…because I couldn't stand to see you like this…in pain."

"Oh." Of all the things he could have said, that was the most unexpected, which left Alex feeling slightly flustered. "Well, it doesn't hurt so much now. The headaches have almost gone and…"

"Not that sort of pain Alex."

"Oh," she said again. "Right. Yes."

"Oh, you've been hiding it well Bolly I'll give you that. But you can't hide anything from me. You never could. Not really."

Alex clamped her lips together as tears welled again. "You've been spying on me?"

Gene sighed. "I've been hanging around for a while…and don't get all bloody touchy on me. Besides, I was still trying to figure out this haunting business. Never done it before."

"So I did hear your voice? All those times when I thought I was hearing things or you were in my imagination. It was really you?"

He nodded. "Like I said. I was just gettin' the hang of it. And don't change the bloody subject – we were talking about you being neck-deep in pain and in danger of going under."

"Now you're just exaggerating. I have Molly, I have Evan, I have friends. And I have a life!"

"Course you do love. So much of a life that you ran away up here. Good plan. So what's next?"

"I..I…I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

"You should be out there Alex, out in the world, seeing men, living life."

"It's too soon for that. Much too soon."

"All I'm saying is don't hide yerself away here in the middle of nowhere. Not because of me."

She looked up at him. "And yet you're here." She put her hands on his chest and pushed at the solidity of him. "You're really here. You're real?"

"Yes I'm real. And I'm here because you believe I'm real."

She shook her head. "I don't even know what that means."

"Good. Me neither. Now drink up, way past your bedtime."

She glanced at clock on the kitchen wall. Nearly 3 o'clock in the morning. "Oh Lord, and it's Christmas Day too." Alex got up as quickly as she could, picked up their used glasses and headed towards the kitchen sink. "I'm going to look like a complete wreck."

"You look pretty good to me…but then you always did."

Alex paused as another memory came back to her, unbidden but not unpleasant. She felt his presence directly behind her and she turned to face him. "You kissed me. Before. Back then. You kissed me goodbye."

Gene squirmed uncomfortably. "Thought it might be me last chance didn't I?"

"Hmm." She moved closer to him and he didn't back away. They were as close as they had been on the night they had danced in each other's arms. "Turns out it wasn't your last chance though."

"Eh?"

"Well. I'm here." She moved closer still, until their lips were almost touching. "You're here." She closed her eyes and savoured the warmth of his skin as their cheeks brushed, the warm clean smell of him, tinged with a hint of aftershave and alcohol.

"Not sure if this is such a good idea Bols. Technically I'm d…"

Alex put her fingers over his lips. "Let's not spoil the atmosphere shall we? Or will the heavens suddenly explode if our lips meet?"

Gene wasn't sure about the heavens exploding, but he had a fairly good idea that he might. Oh sod it! What harm could it do? He moved closer to whisper in her ear. "Let's find out shall we?"

Slowly and tentatively they moved together, their lips gently brushing at first, almost not touching at all. But then a gentle sigh of contentment escaped Alex's lips, a magical sound that spurred Gene on. He deepened the kiss, holding her head gently as he explored, nibbling at her bottom lip, teasing with the tip of his tongue and feeling her respond in kind. The kiss grew more heated, with Alex holding onto Gene for purchase as he pushed her back against the kitchen sink, their lips still desperately kissing, tasting, searching.

Then out of nowhere there came a hissing, meowing, screech and a ball of white fluff jumped onto the work surface.

Gene leaped back in shock, but still held onto Alex. "What the fuck!"

Alex's heart was still racing (whether with shock or lust she wasn't sure) but she laughed when she saw the intruder. "It's only Monty. He must have got out of Molly's bedroom."

"Monty?"

"Molly wanted a cat and I saw no reason why not now that we have the space."

Meanwhile Monty was on all four paws, hackles raised and hissing in Gene's direction. Alex turned towards Gene. "He can see you!"

"Give over."

"He can. He's staring directly at you. _Can_ he see you?"

Gene made a move towards Monty who responded with another hiss.

"I'll take that as a yes then shall I?" Alex said.

Gene shifted uncomfortably. "Alright, I suppose he can."

"And can anyone else see you? What about Molly? Evan? The next door neighbour?"

"How the bloody hell do I know? I just got here. Anyway, everyone knows cats are spooky, sneaky little bastards. Always turning up when you least expect."

"You have to promise me. You have to promise me that you won't show yourself to Molly. I don't want her frightened."

"You think I'd go around frightening little girls?" Gene's face was hard and unreadable.

"No, no of course not." Alex's voice gentled as she touched his arm. "She's just been through such a lot and I don't know how she'd react to having a ghost around the house."

"Fine. I won't let her see me if I can help it." He moved away from Alex as she tended to Monty and gave him some cat food. He sat down wearily in one of the armchairs and closed his eyes. This haunting business was seriously tiring – especially on top of a full day's work at Fenchurch.

"I'm just going to lock the back door," Alex said, "back in a minute."

When Gene opened his eyes, Monty was sat directly in front on his chair, hackles no longer raised, but his head was tipped to one side in an enquiring fashion. Gene leaned forward. "You and me sunshine are gonna have to come to an arrangement. You keep out of my way and I'll try and keep out of yours."

Monty sniffed and started cleaning his paws.

"Was that you talking to the cat?" Alex said on her return.

"Behave yerself Bols. Me talking to a moggy?"

Alex smiled at him and was rewarded with a half smile in return. He held out his hand towards her and she responded, putting her hand in his and seating herself comfortably on his lap, as his arms went around her.

"Thank you," Gene mumbled against her skin.

"For what?"

"For missing me."

Alex sensed a response wasn't necessary so just rested her head against his in a companionable silence. But after a while the nagging question in her head just wouldn't go away.

"So what happens now?"

Gene inhaled wearily and pulled back to look in her eyes. "That depends on you. Do you want me to stay Alex?"

"Can you?"

He nodded. "I think I can. For as long as I'm needed."

"Then yes, I want you to stay. Please stay."

They kissed again and this time without interruption, until Gene began to wriggle uncomfortably. "Sorry love, got a bit of a dead leg."

Alex laughed and got up from his lap. "I should be getting to bed anyway. It's late."

"Yeah. Right. Night then." He watched as she walked away from him and out towards the hallway, only turning when she reached the door.

"You coming then?"

Gene slowly gulped but didn't hesitate. "Be up in a minute." He had just left the kitchen to follow Alex when flash of white fur shot through the gap in the door and wrapped itself around Gene's legs. He gently picked Monty up by the scruff of the neck and shook his head, tutting. "Not a chance mate." He opened the kitchen door again and gently but firmly encouraged Monty to enter, closing the door swiftly behind him.

He crept quietly up the stairs and paused on the threshold of Alex's bedroom. With a deep breath he pushed open the door and found Alex sitting on the bed. She smiled and held out her hand. And he knew he was lost all over again.

**. . . . . . .to be continued.**


	5. Not Far from Heaven

**Many thanks for all the reviews, comments and favouriting for this story. An unashamedly fluffy chapter to follow but there will be some drama to come in the not too distant future.**

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><p><strong>Not far from Heaven<strong>

Alex woke in the bleak mid-winter darkness with his body still wrapped around her, his face against the back of her neck, his lips pressed against her skin and his arm flung casually yet protectively over her body. She smiled a secret smile and tucked the pleasure of this impossible moment away in her heart, a talisman against the dark days already behind her and the possibility of more heartbreak ahead.

She woke again when his lips grazed her forehead and she looked up bleary-eyed to see him sitting on the bed beside her, his dark overcoat already donned and a look of goodbye in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but he touched her lips with one of his fingers.

"Gotta go Bolly. Work to do."

"But…"

"I'll be back. Later." Like he could stop himself even if he wanted to. He leaned down to kiss her lips. "Merry Christmas sweetheart. Close your eyes and get some rest."

She closed her eyes for a second. And then he was gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She must have fallen back to sleep almost immediately and when she woke again the winter sun was unnaturally bright and almost unearthly, and there was that sense of hush that you only get from one natural phenomena. Snow! How perfect. Alex hugged herself against the imagined chill but also with a sense of renewed joy at Gene's unexpected arrival – in her heart and in her bed. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the unfamiliar sensations that still lingered, the delicious languor she felt as she stretched like a cat and the unnerving sensation that she hadn't felt this good since…well, since before she was shot.

She lay there and hugged Gene's abandoned pillow to her body, reluctant to break the spell that she was under. But break it she must of course. It was Christmas Day. And even though she had already had the best present of all, she knew that she really ought to stir herself and see what was happening in the rest of the house – if anything at all. It was only then that she heard mumbling and mutterings outside the bedroom door, along with the distinctive aroma of freshly brewed coffee. There was a tentative knock on the door and Molly popped her head around the door.

"Are you decent Mum?"

There was a second of panic as Alex realised she was totally naked beneath the duvet. "Errr….one second Mols." She scrambled around the bed looking for discarding clothing and found her silk nightshirt abandoned on the floor. She flung it over her head and sat upright in the bed. "Okay."

And a good job too, as Evan appeared just behind Molly as she carried in a breakfast tray. Molly carefully placed the tray on Alex's lap.

"Merry Christmas Mum." She leaned over to hug Alex.

Alex hugged back tightly. "I love you so much Mols. Thank you. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas darling," Evan said, and kissed Alex on the cheek.

"Thank you." She glanced at them both. "Well, this is an unexpected treat." She looked down at the tray. "Eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. " She looked at Evan. "Your idea?"

"No, all Molly's own idea – I just helped out a bit."

"I don't think I've ever been so spoiled."

"You deserved it Mummy. Doesn't she Evan?"

"Yes. Yes she does."

"And has Santa Claus been?"

Molly pulled a face. "Duh. Like I still believe in Santa Claus."

"Don't you?" Alex teased.

"Of course not. Santa Claus is just make-believe. Like ghosts."

Alex almost choked on a piece of toast.

"You okay?" Evan looked at her with concern.

"Just a crumb." She took a gulp of orange juice and swallowed. "So, what's the plan for the rest of the day? Early lunch and then presents or presents first and late lunch?"

Molly beamed. "I bags presents first then lunch!"

"Is that okay with you Alex?" Evan queried uncertainly.

"That sounds like a very good idea. Just let me finish breakfast and I'll be right down and we can crack on with those presents."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex had to admit to herself that it had been a very enjoyable, if exhausting, Christmas Day. She was still contemplating a day without too many culinary mishaps and a lot of laughter. And now she was sat in her favourite comfortable chair in the kitchen along with Evan for company. Not perhaps her current companion of choice but they sat in companionable silence, each nursing a soothing glass of something mildly alcoholic.

"It's been a wonderful day," Evan said, breaking the silence. "Thank you for inviting me. I didn't deserve it."

"Don't be silly – why wouldn't I invite you?"

"I haven't been exactly supportive recently have I? About this place?"

Alex shrugged, willing to let bygones be bygones today of all days. "You weren't to know how well it would turn out – it could have all gone spectacularly tits up!"

Evan raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You have a quite unique turn of phrase these days. Tits up?"

Alex laughed. "I suppose my language is a bit…..rich. Hanging out with the wrong people."

"Or the right ones!" Gene's voice came out of nowhere.

Alex flinched, her eyes growing wider and her mouth open as Gene strode into the kitchen without a care in the world.

"Alex? Are you okay? You've gone awfully pale." Evan's face was a picture of concern.

"What? No, I'm fine just….fine." She watched Gene as he grinned and stood directly behind Evan's chair. "I'm just tired – it's been a long day."

"Yes, so why don't you bugger off like a good little lawyer and leave me and the good lady alone."

Alex frantically made what she hoped were discreet eye signals to Gene – but he was either oblivious or deliberately taking no notice at all.

"Yes, it has been a long day," Evan said, totally unaware of Gene, who now moved to sit in the armchair next to Evan, "but an enjoyable one I hope?"

"Absolutely! Goodness is that the time?" Alex yawned dramatically, "I really should be…"

"Alex? What is Monty staring at?"

"Staring?" She hadn't even seen Monty strolling casually into the kitchen – let alone noticed that he was now sat directly in front of Gene. She watched transfixed as Monty regarded first Gene, and then Evan, with an imperious gaze, before finally returning to stare at Gene.

"Why doesn't he just sit in the empty chair?"

"Cos he's a very sensible cat, is why!" Gene answered.

"Errr, he's well trained," Alex managed to splutter just as Monty prepared to launch himself onto Gene's lap. Alex moved faster than she had done in many months and caught the determined ball of fluff just as he was taking off and caught him mid-air. Monty yowled his disappointed frustration. "Naughty Monty," she chided, while taking the opportunity to kick Gene discretely on the ankle.

"Ouch! That hurt!"

"Serves you right."

"Serves who right? Evan was looking more bewildered by the second.

"Err, Monty of course. Now it really is rather late…think I'll pop Monty back into Molly's bedoom then go to bed myself." She yawned again just for effect.

"I'll just finish this drink, you go on up." Evans said.

Gene smiled at Alex, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Yes, you go on up love. Give me and lawyer-boy here a chance to get reacquainted."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Alex gave Gene the evil eye.

"You don't want me to finish my drink?" Evan said, more confused than ever.

"I mean wouldn't it better to take your drink with you? You could take you time then, drink it in bed while you're reading."

"Well….I suppose I could….if that's want you want. Are you sure you're okay Alex? You're acting awfully strangely."

"Just tired. And you are too I dare say."

"Well, now that you come to mention it I…"

"Excellent!" Still holding onto Monty, Alex practically propelled Evan towards the kitchen door. "I'll just turn the light off…." She turned towards where Gene was sitting and glared at him. "I'll be back to speak to you!" she hissed. And then she closed the door leaving Gene in darkness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

With Monty safely tucked away in Molly's room and Evan finally retired for the evening, Alex could then turn her focus on the source of her ire…and her joy. She wandered into her own bedroom still shaking her head at the commotion that Gene had caused downstairs. Never in a million years had she thought he would just appear like that…in front of Evan to boot! But this was what she wanted wasn't it? In her heart of hearts she had wanted to see Gene again and now here he was. She could hardly complain at the when and where of his appearances.

She walked into the darkened bedroom and went to turn on the bedside light.

"Boo!"

"Arghhhhh!"

Gene's sudden appearance, idly lounging on Alex's bed, took her totally by surprise and almost sent her reeling to the floor.

"You frightened me!"

"I'm a ghost Bols – isn't that the point?"

"I suppose." She didn't have the heart to chastise him too much. He looked far too dangerous and yet at the same time totally at ease lounging on her bed. "You going to make a habit of doing that?"

"What? Turning up in your bedroom?"

"No. I mean materialising in front of other people."

"Had to try it out love. Still getting the hang of this ghosting malarkey. Turns out there's some fun to be had."

"Don't Gene please? Not with Evan…he might have a heart attack or something if he saw you. And it won't do my blood pressure much good either."

Gene pouted. "Spoilsport.

"Besides." Alex slid onto the bed next to him. "I thought you came to see me?"

Gene's eyes darkened and flicked over her face and her body before meeting her eyes again. "I see you Bolly. Can't see anything else."

He reached for her face, ran his thumb over her cheeks, her mouth and then kissed her, his eyes closed to savour the sensations. He couldn't help but think what an idiot he had been – wasting all that time when she had been with him. And now….

"Can you stay?" Alex's eyes were hooded and filled to the brim with desire.

"Do you want me to?"

She smiled and pushed him down onto the pillows. "Silly question."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wrapped up in Gene's arms and swaying around the bedroom to the mellow sounds on the late night radio station, Alex wondered if this what was Heaven would feel like when she finally got there. It certainly felt blissful and frankly almost too good to be true. Granted a fair bit of champagne had been quaffed but she didn't think she was drunk – not drunk enough to imagine Gene making love to her and now holding her as though he would never let her go.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Gene sighed. "Having second thoughts?"

"About what?"

"This. Me."

She shook her head as she looked him over. He looked deliciously dishevelled in his hastily donned trousers and unbuttoned shirt and she couldn't resist kissing the bare skin at his throat. "No. No second thoughts. I'm glad you're here."

"If I am here of course. I could just be product of your fevered imagination."

Their dancing had almost come to a complete halt and instead they simply swayed on the spot, still reluctant to stop completely. Alex laughed and smiled into his eyes in a way that made his stomach lurch and his heart do flip-flops.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking. If you're just a figment then I must have a filthy imagination."

Gene returned her smile. "One of the things I always liked that about you."

"Only one?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, you've got great t..."

She laughingly stopped his mouth with her fingers. "And that's quite enough of that thank you."

"What? Well you have!" His hands slipped smoothly under the bathrobe she was wearing and proceeded to evaluate her assets. "Gorgeous...smooth...bouncy...a right handful."

Alex groaned as his fingers did the talking, skimming her breasts with an unexpected lightness of touch, his thumbs brushing her nipples and his hands cupping the fullness. She responded by clutching him closer, her bathrobe dropping to the floor leaving her totally naked in his arms.

"Hell bloody fire woman! You trying to kill me off!"

"I don't think that's possible...is it?"

"Not sure Bolly, " he let himself be led by Alex back towards the bed, "but what a way to go eh?"

"I couldn't agree more." She watched with barely concealed delight as Gene flung off trousers and shirt and then crawled up the bed towards her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he covered her body with his own.

And then the only sounds in the room were muffled whispers and sighs and whispers of delight and the occasional fruity curse from Gene – that and the radio which played on obliviously.

_'….I found a dream that I could speak to, A dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to rest my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known.'_

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><p><strong>An Lyrics to 'At Last' were written by Mack Gordon and Harry Warren and most famously sung by the late great Etta James**


	6. Monty's Revenge

**Monty's Revenge**

"How long has he been dead?"

Alex smiled to herself, her thoughts still full of Gene, her mind determinedly anywhere in fact anywhere rather than her therapist's consulting room.

"Gene Hunt? When did he die?"

Alex reluctantly stirred herself to face Gabriel Turner whose face was a picture of professional enquiry rather than the concerned pity she had feared. Rather unexpectedly she had found herself confiding in Gabe – although not about everything of course. Not about the Christmas visitations- or the fact that Gene had come to her every single day since then.

"Alex?"

"Sorry. Daydreaming again."

Gabe smiled and prompted her again. "When did Gene die?"

"That would be 2nd June 1953. Coronation Day. Just after 4.30 I think."

"That's very precise."

"He told me."

"Sorry?"

"Gene. He told me what happened when he was killed. At Farringfield Farm as it goes."

Gabe nodded and scribbled down a few notes.

"I suppose you think I really am mad. But I'm not you know."

"You're not mad Alex. Not in the conventional sense at least. But you suffered a horrific brain injury and perhaps the line between reality and fantasy has become a bit blurred in your case."

Alex shook her head. "No." She laughed. "I thought that too once. When I was first shot. I thought I was living some sort of dream brought on by trauma. But the longer I was there, the more I realised that it wasn't a dream – it was reality. A different reality the one I was used to – but reality none the less."

"So all that you've told me, Gene Hunt, Fenchurch East, life in the 80's, that all took place after you were shot by Arthur Layton? While you were ostensibly in a coma?"

Alex nodded and took a gulp of coffee to revive her spirits. "I know it sounds impossible but it's true. I had a life there, work, friends, a home…"

"And you miss it?"

There was a long silence with only the sound of a ticking clock to remind Alex of the passing time. Finally she nodded. "Yes." She bit her lip as she continued. "There were days….after I woke up…dark days when all I wanted to do was go back there. If it hadn't been for Molly I'm not sure what I would have done. She pulled me through the worst of it."

"And now?"

Alex's lips tweaked in a brief smile. "Now it doesn't seem so bad."

"Even though you're living in the house where Gene Hunt was killed?" he said gently.

"Somehow it seems to help."

Gabe shook his head. "I have to admit that yours is a fascinating story – and what you've told me certainly does explain the grieving process you've been going through."

"Actually I feel a lot better now. Well since Christmas I suppose. And now Molly is back at school and making new friends…

Gabe interrupted. "And are you making new friends Alex?"

She nodded. "Of course. The neighbours have been welcoming and I'm meeting all of the mum's at school. In fact we're having a coffee morning soon."

"That's good to hear. And what about work?"

"I'm not really sure about that to be honest. Actually, I'm not really sure what I'm fit for any more. And its still early days – besides, I really just want to be a mum to Molly for a while. She deserves that I think."

"I understand." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I think we've had a very productive appointment Alex." They stood and he escorted Alex to the door. "You'll make another appointment with my receptionist on the way out?"

"Do you think it's necessary?"

"I think so – another couple of appointments won't do any harm will they? Besides, I'm looking forward to hearing more about Gene Hunt and co. You'll indulge me for a while?"

Alex smiled brightly. "Of course." After all, there was no one else she could talk to about it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You okay mum? You're awfully quiet?"

Alex lifted her head from her coffee to look at Molly who was currently sketching at the kitchen table. "Just thinking."

Molly sighed. "You're always like this after seeing "Gabe"." She briefly put her pencil down to air quote Gabe's name – a habit she knew infuriated her mother but which she did anyway.

"That's what a good therapist does Molly – makes you think about things."

"Does it help?" Molly asked seriously.

Alex paused but then answered confidently. "Yes. I think it does – at the moment anyway. What are you doing?" Alex tried to peer over at Molly's sketch but it was immediately shielded from view.

"It's just a project for art class. Actually, I wanted ask you something….two things really."

"Sounds intriguing." Alex reached for the biscuit tin and then passed it over for Molly to make a selection. "Tell all."

"I just wanted to ask if I could take extra art lessons at school. They have a really fab art department and Adrian says…."

"Adrian?"

"The art teacher. Anyway, he says that I've got promise and if I was interested he holds an extra art class in the evening once a week at the school."

"I don't see why not – if that's what you want." Actually Alex was delighted that her daughter was finally taking an interest in something other than Justin Timberlake, Facebook or her new iPhone.

Molly favoured Alex with a huge smile. "Thanks mum." She carried on with her sketch for a while but then said innocently. "You know, you should do something too."

"Do something? You mean apart from look after you?"

Molly shrugged. "You used to do such a lot before…I mean before the thing." Molly was still reluctant to put what had happened to Alex into actual words and the shooting was always referred to as 'the thing'. She glanced at Alex. "You were writing a book before – you could always finish it."

"I'm not sure about that Mols – my memory still isn't one hundred percent."

"But you don't know until you try – that's what you're always telling me isn't it?"

Alex had to admit that Molly had her there. "I'll think about it."

Molly shrugged and returned to her sketch. "Up to you."

"Anyway, what was the second thing you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, Kelly wanted to know if I could go on a sleepover tonight – I know its short notice but…"

Alex beamed. "Of course you can darling. Shall I phone Kelly's mum and confirm the details?"

Molly finally put down her pencils and rushed around to Alex to give her a hug. "Thanks mum. You know I love you right?"

Alex squeezed her daughter back. "And you know I love you right?"

At that moment Monty leapt onto the kitchen table, meowing loudly until attention was paid.

"Poor Monty, I love you too," Molly said.

"I think you'll find that all Monty loves is his food – you'd better feed him and I'll phone Kelly's mum.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex took the opportunity of Molly's absence to run a deep bubble bath and open a glass of chilled New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. She slipped off the soft fluffy bath robe and stepped into the deeply luxurious scented bubbles, taking a sip of chilled wine before placing an eye mask over her eyes, the better to concentrate on the Mahler symphony that was coming from the CD player. Now this was absolute bliss.

She let her thoughts wander with the music, her conversations with Gabe and with Molly both playing on her mind. But in the end the music, the wine and the warm scented water did their job and eventually she was thinking of nothing at all.

"You're gonna get all wrinkly in there Bols!"

"Jesus!" Alex gasped and tried to open her eyes, only belatedly remembering the eye mask covering her eyes. When she had ripped it off, she could clearly see Gene perched on the stool next to the bath, a wide grin on his face. She tried in vain to rearrange the bubbles to cover her modesty. "Gene!"

"What?"

"I'm trying to have a bath here. In private."

"I've seen you naked before love."

"Yes, but this is….different."

"How?"

"It just is!"

"Well you're in a bloody grumpy mood today aren't you? I'll go shall I?"

"No, no…don't go." She grabbed his hand as he made to leave. "It's just…I wasn't expecting you and it's been a bit of a day…lots to think about."

Mollified, Gene returned to his perch. "You been to that shrink again?"

Alex sighed. "He's not a shrink but yes, I have been to see him again. How did you know?"

Gene shrugged. "I can just tell…you get all moody."

"I am not moody! Its just talking about it all…about you…"

"You talked to him about me?"

Alex smiled. "I'm surprised your ears weren't burning."

"Good things I hope."

"Mostly. And it wasn't just about you, it was about the whole experience. I thought it would help."

Gene passed her the glass of wine and watched as she took a long sip. "And did it? Help?"

"Not sure to be honest." She glanced over at him. "I haven't told him about you coming back."

"Probably best. He might cart you off to the funny farm."

Alex shook her head. "You know, I'd forgotten how totally unreconstructed you can be sometimes."

"Well anytime you want to reconstruct me love – feel free."

"Now you're sulking."

Gene crossed his arms defiantly. "Am not." He was still wearing a sulky pout when he glanced over at Alex who was decorously washing her long limbs. "Anyway, not sure why you want to tell him all about it. He'll probably write it all down and turn it into a book – _you_ could do that and save yourself the money."

"Funnily enough that's what Molly said – or at least she said I should write a book."

Gene grinned. "Sensible girl – unlike her mother."

Alex poked her tongue out at him but Gene just chuckled and leaned closer until he was whispering in her ear. "So, I am coming in there or you coming out?"

The answer was in her smouldering eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene woke in the middle of the night, feeling disorientated and slightly confused. It was dark and quiet and he knew he was still in Alex's bed, but there was a low rumbling sound and an oppressive weight on his chest that he had never experienced before. For a second he wondered if he was having a heart attack – but then again he wasn't entirely sure if he _could_ have a heart attack – not here at least. He was just opening one eye when the weight seemed to shift and then there was pain as though he was being stuck with several sharp needles.

"What the fuck….." His eyes flashed open and he was eyeball to eyeball with Monty, who had made himself comfortable on Gene's chest and was flexing his claws to prove the point. "You little bast…."

Another flex of Monty's claws gave Gene pause, as he tried to think his way out of this predicament. Flinging the cat across the room probably wouldn't cut it with Alex so instead he tried rolling over – but Monty clung on tenaciously.

"Alex!" Gene hissed.

"Ughhh? What?" She huddled further under the quilt.

"Alex! Wake up!" He nudged her with his leg.

She rolled over and opened her eyes….to see Gene pinioned to the bed with Monty triumphantly astride his chest and showing no signs of moving. "Problem?" She said with a wicked smile on her face.

"Get this bloody cat off me!"

"Awww, poor liddle Monty. He just wants to cuddle up to Uncle Gene. I can't exactly blame him."

"Yeah? Well now he's sticking flaming great big talons in me. Gerrimofff!"

Alex finally took pity on Gene and shooed Monty off the bed, and then realising they would probably get no further peace with him in the bedroom, she slipped out of bed and ushered him out of the door.

"We must have left the bedroom door open last night." She shivered as she got back into bed and snuggled up to Gene.

But Gene had already turned the bedside lamp on and was investigating his chest for wounds. "Am I bleeding?"

Alex laughed. "Don't be silly." But she indulged him and ran her fingers over his chest. "Not a scratch." She kissed his chest anyway. "Big baby."

Gene growled something and rolled Alex until she was laying full length on top of him. "I've nothing against someone sitting on top of me Bols as you well know." His hands wandered appreciatively over the curves of her bottom. "Just as long as I enjoy the experience as well."

Alex's eyes darkened and she kissed her way up his chest and lingered around his neck. She nibbled at his jaw and whispered in his ear. "So you won't be throwing me off then?"

"No love. You can definitely stay. No meowing though."

She laughed and kissed his mouth. "I think I can manage that."

"Really?" He quickly rolled her onto her back and pressed home his advantage, "we'll see about that missus."

"You're going to make me meow? Is that a challenge? Go on then - do your worst."

"Oh I intend to."

They both entered into the spirit of the game – in which there were no losers. He lavished attention on her body to the point where she was moaning his name and clinging onto the bed for dear life and when they were joined he cursed and swore like a navvy as he vainly tried to retain control. The climax when it came was sweet and well-earned and left them both panting for breath, their bodies still shuddering from the after-effects.

Gene was drifting away on the waves of post-coital drowsiness when Alex moved closer and purred in his ear.

"Meowwwww…"

…**..to be continued.**


	7. A New Dawn?

**Apologies for the break in service, a bad case of writers block combined with real life events has kept me away from the keyboard. Hopefully the muse will cooperate and I'll try to keep this story on track. Keep the reviews coming - they are really appreciated :-) **

**_Previously..._  
><strong>_**Alex didn't go into the Railway Arms, but made it back to Molly. However, Layton's shooting has left its mark on her both mentally and physically. She visits Manchester and Gene's grave and then events take an interesting turn. The farmhouse where Gene was shot has been renovated and Alex takes an instant decision to buy it and move in with Molly. But even after that she still can't forget Gene and on Christmas Eve Gene reappears in her life.**_

_**With Gene back in her life, it looks like Alex is finally putting herself back together - even with Gene making his occasionally annoying sudden appearances when she's in the bathtub. Meanwhile both her counsellor and Molly have suggested that she returns to the book she was writing before she was shot - and even Gene agrees in his own way.**_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**A New Dawn?**

"You wanna be careful in London, all sorts of perverts and scumbags down there."

Alex sighed quietly and continued her packing under the eagle eye of Gene who was sitting with his booted feet propped up on the dressing table.

"I know," she said, "I used to live there. Remember?" She crossed to the dressing table and gathered a few lotions and potions that were absolutely essential for the trip. "Besides, this was your idea."

"Was not!" He crossed his arms defensively and scowled in her direction.

"You _said_ I should write a book. You _said_ I should get a life. Well I did the first one and now I'm doing the second. You should be happy for me."

Gene knew that she had a point – but it didn't make it any easier. Some days he felt like he was being torn in two – half of him wanted Alex to move on and start living her life again – after all that was the whole point of him coming back wasn't it? But the other half of him – well that half just wanted things to go on as there were. He'd always been a big fan of the status quo – and for burying his head in the sand.

"It's a good book," he said, changing the subject slightly.

"I couldn't have done it without your help – none of it." And she didn't just mean the book. Slowly and gradually she had started to rebuild her life and none of it would have been possible without Gene's gentle – and sometimes not so gentle – encouragement. She knew now that there would come a time when perhaps Gene wouldn't be here – oh, the very thought still caused her heart to flutter in panic, but she knew that they couldn't really go on like this forever. Could they?

She took a deep breath, zipped her weekend holdall closed and walked over to Gene, throwing herself into his lap as she sought physical comfort to banish the sudden sadness she felt.

Gene didn't exactly object to being crushed in a huge hug but gathered her closer. "What's all this then? What's up?"

"Nothing." She rested her head against his shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. "I'm going to miss you that's all."

"It's only a weekend love. Besides, I could always pay a visit? I'm sure Evan wouldn't mind."

Alex laughed. "I think he's only just about recovered from his last visit here. You do tease him awfully."

"He deserves it. Pompous prat."

"Anyway, I'm going to be busy at the publishers and rushing around playing tourist with Molly. Besides, you promised to look after Monty."

"Flaming cat! Spoils all my fun."

"Not all of it surely?" She rearranged her position, swinging her leg over his thighs until she was straddling him, while gently nuzzling at his neck. "Let me show you how much I'm going to miss you."

Despite his best intentions, Gene was in no position to resist. With Alex hanging on limpet-like, he stood up and staggered the short distance to the bed, throwing Alex down onto the soft duvet. "Thought you'd never offer."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex patiently sat in the publisher's modern and almost antiseptic waiting room, quietly reflecting on the fact that she seemed to spend much of her life in waiting rooms these days. If it wasn't at the hospital for regular check-ups, then it was at Gabe's consulting rooms having her feelings dissected. At least here it was purely business and she felt suitably business-like dressed in a smartly tailored skirt suit with vertiginous heels, cherry-red lipstick and her hair cut into a short, sleek crop. She patted her hair nervously – the brain surgery of a couple of years ago had left its mark but she was attempting to grow it back to its previous length. Long way to go yet. She was also still somewhat sensitive about the scar on her forehead but she had grown a fringe to compensate – which had the additional benefit of hiding any incipient frown lines.

"Nervous?"

She jumped slightly as a strange but startlingly handsome man sat down next to her.

"Sorry?"

"Your first book? I can always tell you – it's that 'rabbit in the headlight' expression."

"And you are?"

"Sorry. I didn't introduce myself did I? Terrible habit – Adam, Adam Carter." He held out his hand.

"Alex Drake." She shook his hand and was pleasantly surprised by its warmth and firmness. She hated sloppy handshakes.

"Miss or Mrs Drake?"

Alex couldn't help laughing at his barefaced cheek. "None of your business."

"Ah, Mrs Drake then." He sighed dramatically. "I'm suitably devastated. Its not every day one meets the woman of one's dreams, only to discover that she's already taken."

"Do you always flirt like this with total strangers?"

"Only the dazzlingly beautiful ones. And the ones who look like they need their courage bolstering before facing the dragon."

Alex smiled as she realised that she had in fact totally forgotten about her nerves. It had been a long while since she had been chatted up by a handsome man – and he _was_ handsome. Tall, slim, blond and blue-eyed with an excess of natural charm and no hesitation in using it. He was in fact, just what the doctor ordered. Alex realised she was staring and pulled herself together.

"So Mr Carter…"

"Adam please. Who are you seeing? With your manuscript?"

"Edward Gilchrist."

"Ah! You should be fine then. Old Gilchrist likes a pretty young lady to liven things up a bit."

"That's rather sexist don't you think?"

"Alas yes – but none the less absolutely true. And best to be forewarned yes? Besides, he's still a damned good publisher and if your book isn't up to snuff he still won't publish –although he might try to entice you out to dinner."

"You're outrageous."

"But charming?"

That she couldn't deny so she changed the subject instead. "You're an author?"

He nodded. "Yes, for my sins."

"Published?"

"But of course."

"Would I have ready any of your books?"

He studied her intently as if making a thorough examination of her character. "You know I can't actually decide – usually I can tell what sort of books a person reads just by looking at them. But with you I can't. Anyway, unless you're into Regency bodice-rippers artfully combined with a comedy of manners, then you probably haven't. "

"I don't understand."

"My nom de plume is Georgina Grey. '_Duchess in Distress'_ and '_Society Scandal'_ are the latest in a long line of, I have to say, very successful novels."

Alex stared in open-mouthed amazement. "You're Georgina Grey?"

He sighed. "I know. Hard to believe isn't it? But I'll have you know that all the best romance writers are men these days."

"No…I mean I have no idea. But Molly loves your books. She'll be so impressed when I tell her I've met you."

"Molly?"

"Oh my daughter. 15 going on 35 and full of attitude. But she still loves the whole Regency romance thing."

"I'll take that as a compliment then. And your husband – what does he read?"

Before she could answer the coolly aloof receptionist coughed discretely.

"Ms Drake? Mr Gilchrist will see you now?"

Alex gathered her belongings and headed towards the inner sanctum.

"Good luck Alex. Knock 'em dead."

Alex smiled back at Adam. "Thanks. Oh, and I have no idea what my _ex_-husband reads these days."

Adam smiled and watched Alex intently as she disappeared into the office, crossing his legs as he settled down to wait for her return.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that night Alex tip-toed quietly through the front door to Evan's home, dropped her coat and bag on the hall table and silently made her way through the darkened house until she found the kitchen. She wasn't drunk…well perhaps a little tipsy, but she didn't want to wake up either Evan or Molly by switching on lights and making a noise. She hoped she could make herself a comforting mug of hot chocolate and then head off to bed.

Evan was not a believer in microwaves alas, and so she patiently waited as the milk heated gently in the pan, giving her time to think about today's somewhat momentous events. Even now she couldn't quite believe that she was about to become a published author – or at least she would be when she had set about revising her manuscript. Edward Gilchrist had loved her work, praising both the psychological insights and the emotional honesty she had brought to her story. But he had especially loved the parts of the book involving Gene and wanted her to develop those parts more – Edward thought Gene would be very popular in these days of heightened political correctness. He was probably right but the thought of Gene suddenly made Alex feel terribly guilty.

"Oh Gene. What am I to do?"

She touched her lips and closed her eyes. It had only been one kiss, a feather-light goodnight kiss from Adam as they had parted after their meal tonight. He had insisted that they celebrate her success and Alex had seen no reason to say no. It wasn't as if she and Gene were married was it? She still wasn't entirely sure that she was just imagining him. And even if she wasn't she didn't really know how to describe their relationship other than 'secret'. Besides, she deserved a little celebration and this thing with Adam Carter wasn't going anywhere – he was far too flash and good looking even if he was as charming as hell. So why did she feel so guilty?

"The milk's boiling over."

Alex's eyes flashed open in surprise as Evan entered the kitchen, swathed in a tartan dressing gown and looking dishevelled from sleep – or possibly lack of it.

"Bugger!"

"Here, let me. You sit down. Hot chocolate was it?"

Alex nodded. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"Not really. But I can never really settle until I know you're safe at home. Habit I suppose. Good night?"

Alex smiled at his gentle probing – exactly as he used to do when she was a rebellious teenager. "It was wonderful – just what I needed really."

"Good. Good." He poured the milk into a mug for Alex and made himself a small cup of cocoa with the remaining milk, before sitting down at the kitchen table. "Here. You always loved hot chocolate when you were a little girl."

They sat in companionable silence for a while and sipped their drinks until finally Evan cleared his throat – always the prelude to a perhaps difficult conversation.

"I do understand you know – how difficult it must be for you. And whatever my thoughts about what you do with your life, I only ever want the best for you."

"I know you do. But I have to live my life how I see fit – no matter if you approve or not."

Evan nodded. "It's hard isn't it? Letting go?"

"Sorry?"

"It's hard to let go of something….or someone. Oh I know you better than you think Alexandra Price. I read the first draft of your book, and I know from reading in between the lines that something happened to you when you were in that coma – something very profound. And now I'm guessing that you're finding it difficult to let go of that…experience."

Alex didn't have the strength to deny it – especially as it was true. She just nodded and took a sip of her hot chocolate.

"I'm not prying." He continued. "I just want you to know that I understand how difficult it is. After all, I've never quite managed to let _you_ go have I?"

Alex reached for his hand. "You've been a wonderful guardian – and a friend. I don't know what I would have done without you – I sometimes forget to say that."

"My point is Alex, is that however you decide to live your life and whoever you decide to live it with, I always be there to support you – or help pick up the pieces. So don't be afraid of what life holds is all I'm saying."

She squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat again. "So, this Adam chap – anything I should know about?"

"Not yet. He wanted to see me again."

"Oh! Well that's good yes?"

Alex sighed. "I told him it was complicated." Although she had to admit that she hadn't told him _exactly_ how complicated. She liked him, she knew that much.

"Well I wouldn't presume to advise you on your love life…."

"Heaven forbid!" Alex said with a laugh.

"Exactly. I'm sure you'll work it out but maybe he's just the tonic you need? Nothing serious, just someone to make you feel good about yourself? Anyway, I don't know about you but its well past my bed-time." He stood, walked around the table and kissed the top of her head. "Don't stay up too late. Remember you promised to take Molly shopping tomorrow – you'll need all your energy for that."

"Sure you won't come with us?"

"No thank you. I think after all these years I deserve a break. Goodnight pumpkin – sweet dreams."

"Night….and thank you. For everything."

"Night."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene woke with a start and for a minute he was confused as he stared into the semi-darkness of Alex's kitchen. Finally he orientated himself and he lay back onto the sofa where he had fallen asleep. He had been having this strange dream and….he touched his lips with his fingers. He could have sworn he had felt someone kiss him. For a brief moment he wondered if ghosts could be haunted too. Bloody weird whatever it was.

He tried to get up but then felt the dead weight on his lap that was Monty. He prised the disgruntled feline from his comfortable bed, stood up and then just as gently replaced him on the sofa. Not that he'd ever do such a thing while Alex was about obviously – not good for his image. But he and Monty had come to an arrangement of sorts – while Alex was away, Monty got food and a comfortable bed and Gene got….well, Gene wasn't entirely sure what he got out of the arrangement.

He walked slowly over to the kitchen area, his stocking clad feet padding quietly over the floor tiles, until he reached the cupboard where he knew Alex kept the scotch. After pouring himself a large measure he looked around the quiet kitchen and wondered why he was here. I mean, Alex wasn't here and yet still he felt impelled to come. Maybe it wasn't just about Alex? He looked around the ultra-sleek kitchen again, and for a second, in his mind's eye, he relived it all; the muffled voices from behind the door, his voice telling them he was coming in (and God didn't he sound young?), followed quickly by a blinding flash of light and then the excruciating pain as the gunshot connected with his head and face. And then…..nothing. He thought he remembered hitting the floor but that must have been just a dream.

Gene blinked his eyes once and the vision was gone with only his rapidly beating heart to remind him of what had passed here. He felt a sharp pain in his calf and he looked down to find Monty attempting to climb up his leg.

"Give over hairball or I'll 'ave your guts for violin strings."

Despite the harsh words, he bent down and picked up Monty, nestling him against his chest.

"Come on son, time for bed."

And with barely a backward glance, he turned off the remaining lights and closed the kitchen door behind him.

…**to be continued.**


	8. Evidence of Things Not Seen

**Evidence of Things Not Seen**

After Alex's visit to London, life at Farringfield Farm carried on in much the same way as before...except not quite. Gene had detected a subtle change in Alex that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Oh, she was just as affectionate and loving – although in a slightly offhand way, as though her mind was somewhere else. He in turn retreated, citing pressure of work for his more frequent absences. He noted that she didn't complain too much. And then one night, as they were sitting in the kitchen, silently sipping whisky and lost in thought, it finally came out.

"I met someone. In London."

Gene shrugged. "Lot of people in London. Must be difficult not to meet them."

"Ha ha."

They both returned to staring into their whisky glasses.

"So, this someone..." Gene started.

"It's not important."

"Well it obviously is otherwise you wouldn't have raised it."

"He was nice that's all – we went for dinner."

Gene concentrated on breathing in and out – and on not saying the first stupid thing that came into his head. "That's nice," he said eventually.

"It was."

He took another sip of whisky for courage. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" She leapt up from her chair. "No of course not." She wrapped her arms tightly around Gene's shoulders. "Besides, what would any sane man want with me? A single mother with a brain that's been shot to pieces and imagines she's been back in time."

"Come here." He dragged Alex onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. "Any man who didn't want you would need his head examined. Look at you. You're beautiful, intelligent, ballsy and if you do have slight fruitcake tendencies that only adds to your peculiar charm."

"Gee thanks!"

"I mean it Alex. Any bloke would count himself lucky even if you just looked his way. So don't you go putting yourself down." He cleared his throat nervously. "So who is this berk anyway?"

"He's an author. I met him at the publishers. Adam...Adam Carter."

Gene raised his eyebrows. "Could 'ave been worse I suppose...could have been a Rupert."

Alex finally smiled. "Yes, that would have been a deal-breaker."

"You gonna see him again?"

"It would be difficult. I mean he lives in London and I live here and..."

"Excuses. Do you want to see him again?"

"But there's us..."

"And what if I wasn't here?"

"But you are here. Aren't you?"

Gene sighed and gathered her closer. "Only for as long as you need me. You know me – I go where I'm needed."

"Yes, yes you do. But I can't do without you – not yet."

"Fair doos. But don't use me as an excuse for not living your life."

"I won't – I promise." She kissed the side of Gene's head and then rested her head on his shoulder. "I just need more time."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Time. Why was there never enough of it when you needed it? Alex was musing on this philosophical dilemma even as she madly pounded the laptop keyboard. Publishing deadlines were all very well but she doubted whether publishers had taken stroppy teenage daughters, demanding cats and a faulty memory bank into consideration when setting theses deadlines. She paused and looked out of the window. Perhaps having her study with such a tempting view over the countryside wasn't such a good idea after all. Especially on a day like today when the spring sunshine made everything look especially inviting. And she didn't even have Gene around to cajole her or to prompt her memory. This was all of his fault – she could be finished the book by now if only he would turn up. She hesitantly looked around the study as if expecting him to suddenly appear – which of course he didn't.

Alex knew she was being irrational in blaming Gene – but she still couldn't help it. And if she were honest with herself she knew that he was only trying to do the right thing by her, trying to make her stand on her own two feet and get on with her life...the life that he couldn't really have with her. Didn't mean she still couldn't be annoyed with him though – especially as she really couldn't remember a particular incident for the book involving Ray, a stick of celery and an over-excitable dachshund.

Mind you, she had also been distracted by regular texts and emails from Adam who was just as flirty, charming and incorrigible in writing as he was in person. He had also phoned her and tried to persuade her to come to London again or better still he could visit Farringfield. She had managed to put him off by citing pressures of work but she had been sorely tempted. It wasn't that she liked him better than Gene - but simply that he was different she supposed. He didn't know about her past and all of its heartache. He was light and inconsequential, no grand declarations of love, no pressure...just fun. She loved Gene with all her heart but he was, to put not too fine a point on it, dead. She wasn't sure if that was a sound basis for any relationship.

Still frowning, she returned her gaze to the view from her window and watched curiously as a car wended its way along the path from the village to Farringfield estate. Of course, it didn't necessarily mean a visitor for Alex – there were three other houses nearby so it could just as easily mean the car was headed in their direction. She continued to watch until she could make out that it was a bright red Porsche 911 – definitely not a local then. And now she could see that it was most definitely heading her way. She watched transfixed as the car slowed, ground to a halt right on her front drive and with a final extravagant rev of the engines stopped completely. She had a sinking feeling she knew who it was even before he emerged blinking into the sunlight, donning Aviator sunglasses to shield his eyes from the glare.

"Oh God. Adam!"

She stood quickly, for once grateful that Gene was conspicuous by his absence, and turned to hurry down to greet him. She stopped in the hall and glanced at her reflection – did she have make up on? Was she presentable? Was her hair okay? Did her breath smell good? And why on earth was she bothered anyway? She jumped as the doorbell rang and shouted up the stairs "I've got it Molly." Hopefully Molly would be engrossed in some online conversation with her friends and wouldn't be at all curious. But just in case she opened the door quickly and closed it behind her.

"Adam. What an unexpected surprise! Especially as I specifically said I was busy."

He kissed her cheek in greeting. "I know, but you didn't mean it really. Besides, I was in the neighbourhood and..."

"Please don't tell me you just happened to be passing – you live in London."

He smiled winningly. "Mea Culpa. You've caught me out. But really, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain..."

"And please tell me your books are not that cliché ridden?"

"Touché. I just couldn't stay away. Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it."

"And while you think about, please accept these." He reached into the car and produced a hand-tied bouquet of exotic orchids and presented them with a flourish. "They remind me of you."

"Oh?"

"Pale, beautiful, mysterious and delicate. Or is that too much?"

"Much too much."

"But am I forgiven? Can I stay?"

"Of course you're forgiven. But you can only stay for a short while – I have a book to finish."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Molly watched from the window of the main spare bedroom, which conveniently overlooked the back garden where Alex and Adam were now sitting, laughing, talking and enjoying a glass of wine. Monty meowed and Molly absent-mindedly stroked his fur.

"Yes he is a dick-head isn't he?" she said.

Monty meowed again and jumped down from the window seat. She didn't turn to see where he was going but kept her gaze on the garden below. Finally she sighed. "I know you're there Gene."

Silence.

She shrugged. "Fair enough. If you want to act like a dick-head as well then..."

"Mind your language young lady – if your mother could hear you..."

"Well she can't. And more to the point she wouldn't care." She turned around. "Would she? Not while lover boy is here."

Gene moved forward and sat on the window seat next to Molly. "I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't see me any more? How did you know I was here anyway?" Monty leapt up and sat on Gene's lap and was rewarded when Gene began to stroke his head.

"Duh! Monty's a pretty good ghost detector."

"Don't call me that!"

"What? Ghost? That's what you are – aren't you?"

"And don't ask complicated questions."

"You're not my Dad you know."

"Bloody good job too by the sounds of it. And like I said, I thought we'd agreed that you weren't going to see me again. Your mam will kill me if she finds out."

"Well apart from the fact that you're dead already, I don't think it really works like that. I can see you – deal."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Gene continued to stroke Monty as they both turned their attention to the scene outside, where Adam had obviously said something funny and Alex was laughing, lightly touching his arm in passing.

"Oh please! She might as well put a sign up saying 'desperate for a shag'."

"Oi! Don't talk about your mother like that. I won't have it."

"You approve then? Aren't you just the teeniest bit jealous?"

"Why on earth would I be jealous?"

"I'm not a kid you know. I know you love her - that's why you're here. So, you approve of Adam the super-prat?"

"Course not. But she's got to get on with her life and he's as good as way as any. Besides, what do you want me to do? Haunt the bastard?"

Molly giggled. "Now that would be funny."

Gene smiled in response. It wasn't like he hadn't been tempted.

"You're probably right though," Molly said with a sigh.

"Of course I'm right...what about?"

"You can't go steaming in and forbid mum to see him – she'd only do the opposite just to spite you."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Grown women do that for some reason."

Gene nodded thoughtfully. "I'll bear it in mind." He gently shoved Monty down off his lap and turned to Molly. "Listen love, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Its not about the swearing is it? Or kissing Josh Makin behind the post office because..."

"Well for one, I can hardly tell you off about swearing given my own soddin' language and two, who the hell is...on second thoughts I don't want to know. Just don't do it again – you're too young for that sort of carrying on."

"Yeah. Whatever. So what was it you wanted to say?"

"Its just...well...I might have to go away...not come back...things to do you see?"

"Oh. Don't you like us any more?"

"What? Don't be daft – come here." He held open his arms and only winced a little bit when Molly flung herself into them.

"Don't go Gene. I'm sorry for everything, for teasing you about being dead...and the swearing. I won't swear again – I promise." There was a hint of a sob in her voice.

"Shush now and let me get a word in." He stroked her hair as gently as if she were his own daughter. "Nothing to do with you. But I'm a busy man, lots of responsibilities, work to do an' all that. And if I do have to go away, you must be a good girl and look after yer mam. She needs you and you need her. Promise me you'll look after her – for me?"

Molly nodded and hugged Gene closer. "Will I see you again one day?"

"I hope so love. But with a bit of luck it'll be a long time coming – after you've lived a good life, had kids of your own and done all the things you want to do. Do you understand?"

Molly dried her eyes. "I think so."

"Good girl."

"I do have one question though."

"What's that?"

"If you're a ghost, how come I can touch you?"

"I have no bloody idea."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene was waiting for Alex in the kitchen after he had watched her wave off Adam. He felt sick to his stomach and it was nothing to do with the hastily eaten pork pie from the station canteen earlier.

"Good day?" he enquired nonchalantly, as Alex entered the kitchen.

"Yes, lovely thank you. You?" She turned her back and concentrated on making the coffee.

"Yeah. Good. So that was lover-boy then?"

Alex turned to face him. "You don't approve?"

"He drives a prick-mobile for Christ's sake. Think you're gonna be disappointed if you ever get him in the sack."

Alex flushed red with outrage. "I'll let you know shall I? A blow-by-blow account perhaps?"

"You'd have to find it first."

"I don't believe this! Why are you being so..."

"I don't want you to see him again Alex."

"What?"

"You heard. He's a no-good tosser and I forbid you to see him."

"You. Forbid. Me?" Her voice was chilled ice water, her face a picture of controlled fury, as she faced him hands on hips.

"Yes."

They stared at each other, each in their own world of pain, and both unable to back down. Finally Alex broke the silence.

"I think you'd better go now."

Gene shrugged. "Suit yerself – but don't say I didn't warn you."

Alex's temper finally snapped. "Oh go to hell!" And with that she ran out of the kitchen and slammed the door behind her.

Gene stared blankly after her. "Too late Bolly. I'm already there."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex was still fuming and indignant two days later as she sat in a London black-cab crawling across the city and then out towards Greenwich. She'd show him. He had no right to try and control her – and to forbid her to see Adam again! Outrageous. This was all the motivation she had needed and she had quickly put her plan into action. Molly had been delighted to stay with her best school-friend for a couple of nights had needed no further prompting – especially when told she could take Monty with her. Of course, Alex had used the excuse of rushing to see her publisher in London – and why shouldn't she see Adam while she was there? It had been the work of a moment to obtain Adam's home address from Edward Gilchrist – she had had no compulsion in using her feminine charms in this instance. It would be a marvellous surprise and she just knew that Adam would be pleased to see her.

The nerves only kicked in once the taxi had dropped her off outside a neat Victorian terraced house just off Greenwich Heath. It certainly wasn't the sort of bachelor pad that Alex had imagined. It looked a rather cosy and domestic set-up, not the leather and chrome vision of the future that Alex had imagined Adam living in. Still, surface appearances can be deceptive and she painted a smile on her face and pressed the door-bell.

A pretty but harassed looking young woman opened the door. "Yes?"

"Oh I'm sorry." Alex glanced at the address on the scrap of paper she was holding. "I was looking for Adam Carter?"

"Yes, Adam lives here. How can I help." She suddenly turned and shouted into the house. "Toby! If you don't stop that racket I'll..." She turned back towards Alex. "Sorry about that. Kids eh? Did you want Adam. He's not in but..."

"It's not important. I'll just..."

"Are you a friend of his?"

"Yes. Alex Drake. I'm a friend...err...a writer...friend ."

The young woman nodded and held out her hand. "Then you must come in. My name's Amelia but everyone calls me Emmy."

Alex followed Emmy into the house in a daze, but she still couldn't quite take in what her mind was trying to tell her. Emmy showed her into the homely kitchen where clear evidence of young children lay scattered around the floor.

"Excuse the mess but with with two kiddies under five I'm just fighting a losing battle here. You say you're a writer? That's how you met Adam."

Alex nodded. "Listen, there's been a terrible misunderstanding, I should..."

"Its not your fault Alex. This is what he does. My husband."

"I don't understand."

"Oh you're not the first – and I dare say you won't be the last. He laughs, flirts and charms his way into every woman's affections – believe me, I know how charming he can be.

"He never said...I never guessed."

Emmy touched her arm gently. "I'm so sorry you had to find out like this."

"But how can you stand it? How can you live with him knowing...that he does what he does?"

"Because I love him. And because I have two young children who need their daddy."

Alex nodded, tears of shame and anger now perilously close. "I'd better go."

It was just starting to rain as Alex exited onto the pavement but she was glad that the weather now matched her mood and the raindrops hid her tears. She had been such a fool. Married with two children! Oh god, Gene was going to have such a field day with this. She picked up the pace and ran blindly along the crowded pavements not really knowing where she was going. She pushed past a group of tourists and ran out into the road – straight into the path of a speeding SUV.

There was a scream...a thud...and then silence...

…**.to be continued.**

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><p><strong>Sorry, I know that's an awful cliffhanger...I promise I'm working on the next chapter already.<strong>

**The title comes from a Bible quotation "...**faith is **the substance of things hoped for, **the evidence** of things not seen." And also from a West Wing episode :-)**


	9. The Hardest Word

**The Hardest Word**

Gene stalked the antiseptic corridors of the hospital looking like some dark avenging angel and yet feeling more like the wraith he undoubtedly was. He blamed himself – even knowing that logically there was nothing he could have done. But maybe, just maybe if they hadn't argued, if he hadn't deliberately pushed her away, then none of this would have happened. _This_ of course, being Alex knocked down and now fighting for her life somewhere in this hospital.

He had known something was wrong the moment it happened – a sensation akin to a cold knife through his heart had stopped him in his tracks and left him gasping for breath – so much so that the Fenchurch duty sergeant had had the temerity to ask if he was okay. Gene had simply staggered off in the direction of his office and slammed the door behind him while he sat down and caught his breath. He had closed his eyes for a moment and the next thing he knew he was here in the hospital – and that's when his worst fears were confirmed. Something was wrong – very wrong.

That had been a few days ago but Gene had returned to these corridors every night, not only to keep vigil over a still unconscious Alex, but also to eavesdrop as doctors and nurses talked – desperate to find out exactly what was happening to Alex – and more to the point, what would happen if…when she woke up. He had to believe that she would wake up, even if a very selfish part of him longed for her to reappear in his own world. But he only had to think of Molly to realise that in his heart he couldn't see that little girl without her mother.

It had also crossed his mind that Alex might appear in Fenchurch anyway even if she hadn't passed on. After all, she had apparently only been in a coma the first time she had appeared so why not now? When he wasn't stalking the corridors of The Royal London, he waited in his office at the station, half-hoping, half-fearing that she would walk through that door – and knowing that he would have to send her away. But she hadn't shown up so that was that. He had no idea how these things worked but maybe it was because she had already worked through all of her 'issues'? Maybe she didn't need his help and if something happened she would go straight to the The Railway Arms; do not pass 'Go', do not collect two hundred pounds.

He tried not to think about that.

Instead, he was diverted by a group of nurses chatting at the nurses' station just outside Alex's room. They didn't so much as bat an eye as he hovered closely, desperately hoping they would get around to discussing Alex. As it happened it was shift changeover and he was in luck and they systematically discussed each patient, their status and current treatment. He didn't understand a lot of the technical stuff of course but he got the gist of it. With the shift change complete, evening nurses gone and night shift now on duty, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and when he opened his eyes again he was in Alex's room.

He shook his head and shivered. "Still gives me the bloody creeps doing that."

He half-smiled and almost expected Alex to answer him, giving some smart-alec response that would get his back up. But as he turned towards the hospital bed, the realisation hit him once again that there would be no response from Alex, not tonight or possibly any other night. He walked slowly towards her bed and stood there not really knowing what to say.

"Hello love."

She looked small and vulnerable, her head swathed in bandages, her face pale but still beautiful beneath the scrapes and bruises. She wasn't connected to the life support machine any more but she still had various drips and lines going into her arms and an oxygen tube in her nose. Gene nodded to himself – he now understood a little about what the nurses had been talking about. _Slow improvement…no longer life threatening….ultimate prognosis still doubtful…cognitive impairment…_

The words swirled around in Gene's head until they no longer made any sense.

He gently kissed her cheek and then sat down in the visitors chair provided. He took her hand and kissed it, before clasping it in his own. The knowledge that no-one could see him, not even Alex, seemed to have given him an emotional freedom that he had never known before – he didn't care if holding her hand was soppy any more. For long moments he just looked at her, looked at the visible signs of her latest battle with life and shook his head.

"It's not fair," he said finally. "Why you? Haven't you been through enough? It's like some kind of sick joke! Just when you were getting back on your feet…when you were finding your own way back…and now this happens? I don't get it Alex."

He looked in vain for some sort of response even though he knew that it couldn't possibly happen – not yet at least.

"Listen to me – shouting me gob off again. Just ignore me." He laughed but there was no humour involved. "Like you can hear me with all the drugs they're pumping into you. Not sure if I want you to hear me or not to be honest. See, the thing is love, you're gonna be fine. Well, not fine but you're not going to die. Been listening to the nurses see? They've removed a blood clot from your brain…, that bloody brilliant brain of yours getting you into trouble again. Anyway, they don't know if it was the accident that caused it or it was there to start with." He laughed mirthlessly again. "Maybe that's all I ever was Alex – a clot on your brain? A figment? Anyway, you're going to wake up eventually and you probably won't remember any of this….or me."

He stopped talking and closed his eyes. This was what he had wanted – for Alex to forget him and get on with her life! Talk about getting what you wish for! But no matter how this had come about, Gene recognised that in a very small way, this was a blessing in disguise. Alex would wake, she wouldn't remember being haunted by him and she would start to rebuild her life again – with that plonker Adam no doubt. Gene only hoped that that bastard knew what a woman he was getting – and that he'd take care of her. He opened his eyes again.

"He's a lucky bastard that Adam. But he's your chance to have a normal life Alex – once you're better that is. You need to get away from Farringfield and get living – with Molly and with him." He kissed her forehead. "I reckon that ponce who said sorry was the hardest word had it all wrong. You see, I won't be coming back sweetheart, you won't see me again. It's too hard for both of us I reckon and I…I love you too much."

His voice cracked with emotion and he was just about to turn away when her eyelids began to flicker. He held his breath and the world stood still. He knew he should go before she woke but somehow he just couldn't move.

"Alex?"

Her eyes were open now but she didn't move at all. He risked peering closer and could see that her eyes were darting around the room but not focusing on anything in particular.

"Bols?" He moved into her line of vision – oh he knew that he shouldn't but he just couldn't help it.

She stared straight through him.

"Bols?" This time he waved his hand in front of her eyes.

Not a flicker of recognition. Nothing.

His heart sank as he recognised the truth. She couldn't see him.

Any other thoughts were immediately dispelled as the door opened and a couple of nurses rushed to Alex's bedside, alerted by her sudden return to consciousness. Gene somehow found the strength to back away from her bedside and let the nurses do their job. He turned to go towards the door but found he couldn't just leave. With one final glance towards the still silent figure in the bed he said goodbye.

"See you around Bollykecks."

And before he could change his mind his closed his eyes and wished himself away to anywhere but here.

…**..to be continued**

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><p><strong>Sorry for the shortness of the chapter but I just needed it to end there...and sorry for ending it there! It is a bit depressing I admit but I hope you stick with it - its not over yet.<strong>

**And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or just read the story - means a lot as always.**


	10. Subterranean Homesick Blues

**Subterranean Homesick Blues**

Alex sat in her wheelchair in the sunny conservatory waiting impatiently for Evan and Molly to appear. She supposed she ought to thank her lucky stars that she was simply alive at this point, but she still couldn't wait to get out of this place – this place being a brain injury rehabilitation centre in Blackheath. Oh, the staff had been kindness itself and she had to admit that her progress since her discharge from hospital had been impressive – wheelchair notwithstanding. But she had been living here for four months now and she was impatient to get back to her own life – whatever that life might now consist of. For the truth of the matter was that she couldn't really remember what her life had been like before this latest physical blow. Indeed, when she had first regained consciousness she was convinced she had been shot not run over. It had been several weeks before Evan gently explained what had happened – and the events that had taken place between her shooting by Layton and her being run over in Greenwich. It all seemed like a dream to Alex.

However the side-effects of the accident were anything but a dream. Apart from the physical injuries – broken collar bone, broken ribs, broken ankle - there was also the additional brain trauma which had left her with slow speech, right-sided weakness down her body and she had almost totally lost the sight in her right eye. Not that you could tell any of this just by looking at her. Apart from the fact that she still wore a gaily coloured headscarf to cover her thin fuzzy layer of new-grown hair, she looked the picture of health. Indeed, only silly regulations kept her in the wheelchair until she was discharged from here – once she was shot of this place she intended to practice her walking whenever she could. She was determined that a wheelchair did not figure in her future.

At the sound of wheels on the crunchy gravel outside she lifted her head, adjusted her vision and smiled as she recognised Evan's car pulling up outside the centre. She forced herself to remain seated but waved excitedly when she saw Molly emerging from the passenger seat.

She was going home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Stop asking!" Even as the words left her mouth Alex regretted the sharpness of tone. Evan had been fussing around her like an old mother hen ever since she had arrived back and tried to settle into his London apartment. But what Alex still lacked in vocabulary (although it was getting better by the day) she made up for in tone of voice.

"Sorry." Evan looked suitably sheepish as he sat down next to her. "Look Alex, I know this is not ideal but..."

"I want to go home."

"You know this is your home for as long as you want."

Alex shook her head in despair. "Not big enough." She glanced around the open-plan and totally unsuitable chrome and leather living room they were seated in. Great for a bachelor pad but hardly appropriate for a recovering invalid and a teenage girl. She shook her head and waved her arm dramatically. "Too small. You..me...Molly!"

"We'll sort something out I promise. But you can't possibly live by yourself and look after Molly at the moment. Perhaps you could sell Farringfield and..."

"No!"

"But it's simply not practical Alex. You must see that?"

"Don't see it. It's my home." Tears of frustration began to well in her eyes. She just didn't have the words to explain to Evan why she needed to go back there – and in reality she couldn't really explain it to herself. At first she couldn't even remember buying Farringfield Farm but then Molly had shown her pictures and told her about Monty and the life they had lived there. Alex was slowly remembering but she also felt an emotional pull she couldn't really explain. She looked imploringly at Evan. "Please?"

He took her hand, his face a picture of guilt and sympathy. "I feel this is all my fault...if only.."

"No," she said, more controlled now. "Not your fault. _His_ fault. Adam sodding Carter."

They both smiled at Alex's continued fluency with swear words even when other words failed her. Of course at first she hadn't remembered that Adam even existed and had remained blissfully ignorant until the day when Evan received a phone call from Mrs Carter enquiring after Alex's health. Apparently she had seen a report of the accident in the local paper, put two and two together and in an excess of guilty feeling had tried to make contact via Alex's publishers. Then the full story had come out of course. Evan had been furious and had even threatened to go and give Adam a piece of his mind. Alex had forbidden it, even though she felt strangely detached from the whole situation. The anger had come later.

"There is another way," Evan said. "You don't have to agree of course but it might be a way forward."

"What way?"

"Well to be honest its something I've been thinking about a lot recently."

"What is?" Alex tried to reign in her impatience.

"Oh, didn't I say? I was thinking about taking early retirement. And maybe I could come and live closer to you and Molly...no, don't answer now, just think about it for a while."

"But...but...your life...is here."

Evan nodded. "It has been in London that's true. But that was before you and Molly moved away. Now I realised that my life is wherever you are – especially now. Of course I don't want to crowd you but you do need help Alex – at least for the next few months until you're stronger and you can look after yourself and Molly alone."

Alex was immensely touched and profoundly grateful that Evan would even contemplate doing such a thing. She couldn't really imagine him living anywhere but London but as she looked at him, almost with new eyes, she took in the tired face and the greying hair and realised that he was getting older and that maybe retirement would give him a new lease of life. On the other hand, she couldn't really imagine them living in perfect harmony in the same house!

"Two houses," she said finally. "Not live together?"

"Oh yes definitely not together. In fact there's house in Farringfield village for sale – I've already looked into it. There's a vibrant community there and I'm sure I'd fit in and still be close enough to you and Molly. And besides, the bright lights of Manchester are not so very far away. So, what do you think?"

For the first time since the accident Alex allowed herself to feel a glimmer of hope. "I say...yes."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Six months later and Alex was sitting in the conservatory at Farringfield curled up in a chair with a book. The last six months had not gone exactly how she had imagined but on the whole there had been more good times than bad and for that she was grateful. The arrangement with Evan living close by had actually turned out better than she had expected. Of course there had been frustrations as once again she had had to battle her physical and mental limitations but they had all coped and now that she was capable of dealing with Molly on her own, Evan's visits were still frequent but less concerned with her day to day limitations. In fact Evan had blossomed in his retirement and he looked less worried and frazzled now that he was a gentleman of leisure. He was writing his own book now and frequently asked Alex for advice given that she was the published author in the family. Alex suspected he was just humouring her but she was grateful all the same.

She turned to the book in her hand – the book that she hadn't even remembered writing at first. She had read it avidly, intrigued at the events she had described. And the people! They leapt off the page as vivid as any real life person. But they couldn't be real could they? Surely she must have imagined them as she lay in that first coma? Once she had recovered her reading ability, she had read and re-read the book, looking for clues and seeking the answers that always eluded her. In the book she talked about these people as if they were real – especially Gene Hunt. At first she had simply marvelled at what a wonderful character he was. But then gradually flashes of memories would pop up at unexpected moments and she had come to accept that something strange and wonderful had happened after Layton had shot her.

But bizarrely she also had flashbacks of Gene here in her kitchen...and in her bedroom. But that couldn't be right could it? He had been a product of her coma-induced trauma and then she had written a book about him – anything else was a dream...or wishful thinking. She closed her eyes and tried to picture his face, smiling as she conjured up a tall, blonde and decidedly grumpy looking man in her head. His facial features were a bit vague but his eyes were a determined steely blue, piercing in their intensity. She opened her eyes quickly and laughed to herself. Perhaps a future as a romantic novelist beckoned?

Before that bizarre thought could be followed up, Monty leapt up onto her lap and demanded attention, meowing loudly as Alex cuddled him close, burying her face in his soft white fluffy coat. She had never really been a cat person before but for some reason Monty brought out the cat-lover in her. He really felt like a personality in his own right and sad to admit she had on more than one occasion found herself having a conversation with him.

"Just you and me Monty eh? The moggy and the mad writer?"

Monty meowed again and wriggled to escape her clutches, jumping down onto the floor and heading off toward the kitchen.

"Not more food ?" She shook her head but followed in his footsteps – she knew her role in this household. She overtook him headed into the kitchen proper, retrieving his empty bowl and filling it with another portion of food. "Come on then greedy – where are you now?"

She turned to find him sitting on the floor directly in front of the armchair in the seating area. He was looking at the chair expectantly...as if he were watching something...or someone.

"Monty?"

Alex walked slowly towards the chair, a sudden prickle running down her spine as she too stared at the chair. She narrowed her eyes and the air in the room stilled and became silent. "Gene?" She took another tentative step forward, willing herself to see something..anything...anything at all.

"Mum? I'm home!"

The door slammed and the spell was broken. Molly burst into the kitchen just as Monty turned on his heel and ran towards his food bowl. Molly picked him up and was rewarded with a hiss.

"Ooooooooh. Get you!"

"You came between him and his food," Alex said with a laugh. "That's what you get!"

Molly helped herself to a biscuit from the cookie jar. "You okay mum?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"Nothing. You were just staring at the chair when I came in."

Alex shrugged. "Monty thought he saw something on the chair I think."

"Not a mouse I hope?"

"No. But they say cats can see things we can't don't they?"

"Mum, I seriously think you ought to get out more. You're turning into a mad cat-woman."

Alex laughed and caught Molly in a hug. "You ought to worry when I start seeing things – not the cat."

"Fair doos."

Alex stared at her daughter. "What did you say?"

"What? I said fair enough."

"Oh. Okay." She rubbed her temple as the first signs of an incipient headache began to make itself known.

Molly was immediately at her side. "You okay mum?"

"I'm fine. Just reading too much today that's all. But then having only one working eye does make things a bit more challenging in that department."

"I'll make you a cup of tea. You should sit down and rest." Molly shooed Alex out of the kitchen and into one of the comfortable chairs.

Alex didn't protest and watched her daughter bustle about the kitchen. She was becoming quite the grown-up now – a process that had been hurried along by Alex's various misfortunes. Alex regretted the fact that Molly's childhood had been so curtailed but there was compensation in the closeness that they now shared. Molly brought over two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits to share.

"Mum?"

"Yes darling."

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

"Goodness! Whatever makes you ask that?"

Molly shrugged. "You're still young and still attractive – why not? Men can't all be bastards can they?"

"Language Molly! And no, contrary to my own experiences, some men are actually quite nice. " She paused to sip her tea and gather her thoughts. She still had to think about words but at least now she spoke clearly if slowly. "I honestly believe than I'm better off on my own now. I have you and I have Evan and hopefully one day soon I can get back to my writing. I don't think I'll ever fall in love again."

Molly considered this. "But was there someone...before wasn't there? I just got the feeling that there was," she prompted.

Gene's faded image popped into Alex's head again, bringing with it a feeling of warmth and nostalgia. "I think there might have been someone...but it feels like a long time ago now...like a dream."

"Oh. I see." Molly tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Alex shook away the images from her head and turned to Molly. "Enough daydreaming I think. What shall we have for dinner? Spaghetti carbonara or fish pie?"

Monty leapt up onto Molly's knee and meowed loudly, clearly stating _his_ preference. Alex and Molly laughed and then got up and headed towards the kitchen – with Alex giving a fleeting backward glance towards the empty chair.

…**...to be continued.**

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><p><strong>Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews - and for sticking with this story. Sorry for the distanct lack (almost) of Gene in this chapter but I haven't finished with him yet...<strong>


	11. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

**So, this is it - the final chapter of my story. I'll do some acknowledgements at the end as I don't want to give the ending away for those who haven't guessed it yet, but just want to say many many thanks again to those who have read, reviewed, favourited or simply enjoyed this story. I've enjoyed writing something slightly different for Gene and Alex. But as they say, all good things come to and end...**

**Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…**

Fifty. She was fifty years old.

Alex shook her head in amazement. Where had the time gone? She stood in the conservatory looking out onto the garden and beyond that to the still bare landscape where the familiar solitary scarecrow stood. Alex supposed she should have got rid of it years ago but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. Besides, Molly had loved dressing up the scarecrow in various bizarre outfits and now Molly's children loved to do the same. The scarecrow had barely changed with the passing years and Alex found comfort in its familiarity. She raised her mug of tea to salute it. "Here's to us – still here after all these years."

And Alex _was_grateful to still be here. She had had a couple of close calls but in the end she had pulled through and seen her daughter grow up into the bright, intelligent and lovely young woman Alex had always hoped she would. And now Molly had a husband and a daughter of her own and more recently had given birth to a baby boy who Alex simply doted on. They had all been there at her recent birthday party to celebrate reaching the momentous milestone. Alex would have been happy with something more low-key but Molly had insisted and Alex had submitted to the celebrations. There was cake, but there was also champagne and music and laughter with the friends she had made here over the years. No Evan of course. He died over five years ago now and Alex found that she still missed him terribly. They had not always seen eye to eye on everything that was for sure, but he had been a devoted godfather and friend, both to her and to Molly.

Other things had changed too. Monty, that faithful if slightly annoying companion was also gone. Alex remembered how devastated Molly had been when she had found out that Monty had died. That had been about four years ago. He had disappeared one day and Alex and Molly had hunted high and low for him without result. But the next day they had found him in the one place they had never thought to look. They had found him curled up at the base of the scarecrow, for all the world looking like he was just asleep. But Alex had only to gently put one hand on his snowy white fur to know that he was no longer breathing. They had buried him there, saying a few heart-felt words of gratitude for his companionship.

She sighed and turned, almost tripping as she did so. She carefully lowered herself into the nearest chair until she regained her balance. This was not one of her good days. Probably a result of all the excitement of her birthday, but she felt every one of those years today – and a bit more. The old weakness down her right side was making itself known again – hence her lack of balance. She had taken to using her walking stick again plus she had had to resort to wearing her old-fashioned reading glasses as her vision was blurred. But Alex was not in a mind to moan about her lot – the birthday party had been worth any physical after-effects that she might now be suffering.

"Hi Mum – it's me!"

"I'm in the conservatory," Alex replied, as Molly made her usual noisy and chaotic entrance in the house.

When she entered she was carrying a small bundle in her arms.

"I'm not sure how that baby sleeps through your shouting," Alex said affectionately.

"Oh, Sam sleeps through everything, don't you Sammy? Will you take him?"

"As if you need to ask." Alex held out her arms and took firm hold of the sleeping baby, while Molly wandered off to the kitchen to make herself a drink. She was still gently rocking baby Sam and whispering baby-talk to him when Molly returned and plonked herself down on the sofa.

"So, how are you feeling today?" Molly asked. "Better?"

Alex shrugged. "Still a bit tired." She wasn't going to mention the nagging headache that she had been struggling with all day. "Remind me not to party quite so hard next time."

"Your party was almost a week ago now mum – are you sure it's not something else? We could always…"

"Don't fuss Mols! I'm just feeling my age today that's all."

"Age? You're only fifty mum – hardly knocking on heavens door! "

"Well I think I've had a bit more wear and tear than most people." She saw the flash of anxiety on her daughters face and deliberately lifted the mood. "Like I said, I'm just tired."

"If you say so. Anyway, let me take Sammy and put him down to sleep."

Alex didn't resist and immediately felt the relief when Molly lifted him from her arms. She rubbed at her right arm where he had been laying, trying to restore the feeling. She got up slowly and followed Molly back into the kitchen where she was settling the baby into his pram.

"He always sleeps better in here," Molly said, looking around the room.

"Must be the warmth."

"Maybe."

Alex topped up her mug of tea and then they both sat down on the comfy sofa. Alex shook her head. "You never sit in the other chair." She indicated the vacant armchair opposite. "Why is that?"

Molly shrugged. "I always feel it's his chair."

"Whose? Monty? But Monty's long gone now."

"No. Not Monty. Gene."

"Gene?" Alex felt her heart hammering inside her chest. Of course she remembered Gene from her coma but how could Molly…..

"Gene the ghost. At least I think that's what he was."

"Molly you couldn't possibly have seen him. He was the DCI in my book remember?"

"I know. But he was here too…when I was a little girl. I saw him."

"I'm not sure that's even possible sweetheart. Maybe you were just dreaming."

Molly shook her head vehemently. "I'm not. He made me promise not to tell you. Said you'd go apeshit."

Alex smiled. That certainly sounded like something Gene would say. "Well, I suppose we'll never know what you saw."

Suddenly a light bulb went off in Molly's head and she leapt out of her seat. "Actually, there is something." And to Alex's amusement she went rushing out of the room.

Alex was still waiting patiently when Molly rushed back into the kitchen carrying a large sketch pad.

"Do you remember when I was into art at school?"

Alex nodded. "You used to spend all day drawing. You never let me see much of it though."

Molly handed over the sketch pad. "I just found this in my old room. Look. Look through it."

Hesitantly Alex began to flip through the page, smiling as she recognised some of the images. There was Evan of course, and several really good sketches of Monty. "These are really good…."

"Keep looking," Molly prompted.

She did as she was commanded. And there he was. She turned to look at Molly. "But it can't…."

"Is it him mum? Is it your Gene?"

Alex looked at the drawing in her hand. He was sat in an armchair in this kitchen – the same armchair that Monty used to favour, the same armchair that Molly would never sit in. She had captured his features very well; the floppy fringe, the sideburns, the determined set of his jaw and the hint of a pout on his lips. This was the first time that Alex had set eyes on his face for years – in her dreams his face was always blurred, only the eyes distinct and bright. But she would have recognised that face anywhere.

"It's him."

Molly beamed with pride. "I knew it! Although I still don't understand how."

Alex shook her head. "Neither do I Mols, neither do I. Can I keep it?"

"Of course."

Alex continued to stare at the picture in her hand, a finger carefully tracing the outline of his face. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Molly screwed her face in concentration. "Think it was just before your accident – when you were run over. He told me that he might have to go away and that I was to be a good girl and look after you. And then afterwards, when we came back here to live….I always thought he might come back but he never did."

"No," Alex said quietly, "he never did." She was lost in thought, half of her wondering why Gene never came back, and the other half hoping that he had finally called it a day and gone into The Railway Arms. She was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming tiredness. "Actually Mols, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to have a nap this afternoon. I think I'll feel better for it."

"Of course I don't mind. I have to get back home and pick Caroline up from school anyway. Are you sure you're okay? You don't want me to get the doctor to come out?"

Alex shook her head. "I'll be fine. A good sleep is all I need."

"Okay. But I'll pop back later after the kids are in bed." Molly kissed Alex on the cheek and headed for the kitchen door but was surprised when a flash of white fur streaked past her and into the kitchen. "Monty?"

Alex looked up at the commotion and then grinned. "I was going to tell you. He turned up a couple of days ago –a stray I think. He does look a bit like Monty though doesn't he?"

"A bit? He could be Monty's double." She bent down to stroke the cat who was busy wrapping itself around her ankles. "He even acts like Monty too – always after food. Are you going to keep him?"

"We'll see. It is nice to have company around the house when you're not here. Actually, you could pick up some cat food on the way back – he's eating me out of house and home."

"Okay. See you later. Love you."

"Love you Mols."

Monty leapt up onto her lap and purred loudly. "Oh I know what you want mister. Come on then." With an effort of will she heaved herself out of the chair and walked towards the fridge in the kitchen. After pouring a saucer of milk for Monty mark 2, she made herself a warm milky drink and took a couple of painkillers. That plus a nice nap would hopefully see off the malaise she was currently feeling. She left Monty lapping milk in the kitchen and turned the radio on to one of her favourite digital stations – a bit old fashioned now but she didn't care. She settled herself in one on the comfortable armchairs, the picture of Gene in her lap and a glass of milk in her hand. She smiled as she recognised the tune on the radio. A flash of remembrance or possibly a dream. Dancing with Gene. _"At last my love has come along, my lonely days are over…."_ She closed her eyes as if to sleep.

Monty jumped in alarm at the sound of the glass hitting the wooden floor. He padded towards the seat where Alex was sitting, her hand outstretched, and the glass of milk spilled onto the floor. With a plaintive meow, and after a cursory sniff at the spilled milk, he jumped up onto her lap but no reaction was forthcoming. He settled himself protectively on her lap. And waited.

It wasn't long before a dark figure emerged from the shadows, pausing only as he caught sight of Alex lying quite still in the chair. She was as beautiful as the first day he had clapped eyes on her. Possibly more so. He felt a twinge of nervousness as he approached her chair. Would she remember him? Would she understand? While he couldn't exactly rejoice that it was finally time, he had to admit that he was glad she hadn't lived until she was ninety years old. But then he always had been a selfish bastard – most of the time.

He spied the cat, still sitting on her lap. "Might have known you'd be here. You've done yer job now so mush!" Without waiting for a second warning Monty leapt down onto the floor as Gene hunched in front of the still silent Alex.

"Alex?"

He thought he saw her eyes flicker but she didn't move.

"Alex?"

Again the eye flicker.

With a sigh of exasperation he tried again. "Bols!"

Alex's eyes shot open and then became even wider as she saw Gene. She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them again. He was still there. "Guv?" She reached out and touched his arm. It was solid and warm. "Gene?"

"Come on love. Time to go." He reached out his hands to help her up.

"Go?" She laughed. "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm far too old and decrepit to run off gallivanting with you."

"Disobeying a direct order Inspector?"

Alex shrugged her shoulders. "Well if you insist – but don't say I didn't warn you." She took Gene's hand and he pulled her easily to her feet. Funny, but she didn't feel the normal aches and pains that she had gotten used to over the years, the legacy of her run-ins with mortality. She felt pain-free and almost light-headed with happiness. She held onto Gene's hand as he steadied her on her feet. "I don't understand…"

He gently turned her around to face the chair where she had been sitting. In it was the middle-aged Alex, the fifty-year old Alex who had lost her final battle but whose face was now serene and free from pain.

"I'm….dead?" She turned to face Gene. "Really? Definitely? No way back?"

He nodded. "No way back. I'm sorry Alex." Christ, now he hated this job sometimes. He thought it might be different with her but…

Alex was beaming at him.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, although she was still smiling fit to burst. She took his face in her hands and before either of them knew what was happening she was kissing him so hard he rocked on his heels. He had to wrap his arms around her to stop them both from toppling over. Gene felt the life and warmth that had been missing for so many years slowly seep through his body until every nerve ending was on fire.

"Think we'd better get out of here don't you?"

Alex nodded but took one final glance back at the figure in the chair.

"No regrets?" Gene asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I got to see Molly grow up – she's settled and happy. That's all I need to know." She squeezed Gene's hand. "So where now? Railway Arms?"

Gene snorted. "Not unless you're desperate for a sweet sherry. Got a couple of tasty cases on the go if you're interested?"

"I can't think of anything better."

Gene led the way through the house, with Monty tagging behind. Alex paused in the hall as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her grin got even wider as she saw herself dressed in a white leather jacket, tight jeans and her hair a mess of permed curls. She patted her curls and smiled, "Always was my best look."

"Come on then Inspector, time and villains wait for no man – or woman."

There was a loud meow and they both looked down to see Monty plaintively looking up at them. Gene frowned and then sighed. "What? You waiting for a written invite? Come on then."

Then Alex, Gene….and Monty left Farringfield Farm for the last time.

"Drink in Luigi's first?"

"First round on you Guv?"

"Oh here we go…."

_And here we are in Heaven, for you are mine at last…._

**THE END**

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><p><em><strong>AN. As some of you might have already guessed this story is heavily indebted to The Ghost and Mrs Muir, which if you haven't seen I'd heartily recommend. Best watched curled up in front on the TV on a wet Sunday afternoon. And if they ever remake it again, they couldn't do better than employ Philip Glenister and Keeley Hawes in the main roles. I also acknowledge a touch of Truly, Madly Deeply in here too.**_

_**The lyrics of At Last were written by Mack Gorden and Harry Warren and sung (at least in my head) by Etta James. The title of this chapter is taken from Shakespeare's play Macbeth.**_

_**Thanks once again for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**_


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